Tauriel
by Aqua4444
Summary: Who was she, the red-haired elf that followed Legolas around like a shadow, never being too far away? The members of the newly founded fellowship can't help but wonder. When each member of the fellowship meet her, they all have their own theory of who she is and what she is to the prince of Mirkwood. She goes by many names and titles, but only one matters.
1. Boromir and the Warrior

**Hello! **

**This is a little story I thought of after getting some reviews on a Legolas and Tauriel story of mine where most of the reviewers wanted Tauriel to go to the meeting at Rivendell with Legolas and later on, be accepted into the fellowship. So this story is kind of for them and for my plot bunny (that's such a funny word, don't you think?), so I hope you'll like it! **

**This story will have nine chapters (one for each member of the fellowship) and will be about their time in Rivendell before leaving for the journey to destroy the Ring. It will be the members meeting Tauriel and their thoughts/impressions of her. **

**I do not have a specific updating schedule, but I'll try to update every two days, if I can. **

**I do not own any characters or places; J.R.R Tolkien or Peter Jackson and Co do.**

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 1: Boromir and the Warrior**

The training yard was empty as Boromir entered, his steps sounding loud and heavy even to his own ears. Rivendell was a calm place, unnaturally so. A delicate place, hidden from the rest of the world, with the air fresh of some power he did not know and the sounds of water flowing and birds chirping gave the whole valley an illusion of being safe and unreachable. The elven valley possessed some beauty, Boromir could admit, but it wasn't a beauty that spoke to him in a pleasant way. Sorcery, he knew was searing through this place and he did not like the way it could bewitch his mind, if only for mere seconds. The sooner they would leave this place, the better. Outside, he was in control of his own fate.

He drew his sword even though he had no one to fight. He doubted that would be the case once he and his comrades left the valley. Sighing, he stroked the flat side of his wide sword with his thumb, feeling the cool surface of the blade. It gave him a true sense of being safe than the shimmering illusion of Rivendell.

The sword was strong in his hand, a gift from his father. The brief thought of his father made him frown. He would not be too pleased with him going on this journey, a journey that could mean that he would never return. He was sure that his father would've agreed; that the Ring was better off being used to their advantage than to destroy it.

Thinking of his father, his thoughts unconsciously turned to his brother. Faramir would've loved it there; the magical atmosphere and buildings – so unlike Minas Tirith – , the elves and the knowledge that one could gather if you were interested enough. Boromir's interest for books and knowledge of great times of old were not nonexistent, but small compared to the love he held for weaponry and adventures. He had no doubt that Faramir would have been the better option as a messenger and negotiator, but when it all came down to going on a quest that could possibly be like walking towards ones death, Boromir was glad that Faramir had not gone in his stead. In Minas Tirith, Faramir may not be the happiest, not even the safest, but he had at least an army of Gondorian soldiers to help protect the city and its citizens. A small comfort.

Boromir sighed and raised his sword, admiring the way the beams of the sun caught the steel and colored it gold. He swung it around, enjoying the familiar feeling. In the lack of opponents, the air would have to do, even though it was not the most dangerous of enemy. Closing his eyes, Boromir could see his old sword instructor, his friends and the ones he used to spar with. He knew their every movements and it became easier to swing his sword at the air. After all, it was something he was born to do.

He did not know for how long he had been there, fighting opponents that only existed in his mind and was far away from the training yard of Rivendell, when he suddenly was interrupted.

"An impressive enemy", he heard a soft, female voice say with the faintest trace of mockery in her voice.

Boromir turned around, not lowering his sword and his grey eyes narrowed at the sight of the newcomer. He recognized the elf before him, not only for her bright, red hair, but also because he had seen her tiptoeing around the elven prince that would join Boromir and the others on this quest of doom in an attempt to save Middle Earth.

The elf regarded him with alert eyes he could not say the color of and she seemed to seize him up with her gaze, as if trying to decide if he was worthy her time and attention or not. Boromir lowered his sword, but did not put it back in its sheath. He stared back at the woman, because there was something intriguing about her.

She was tall, but then again weren't all elves? She was dressed in what he thought was the elvish way of an armor; not the shiny, metallic sort that was heavy and rustled when you moved, but simple tunics in the colors of the forest, strong in its own way, with leather jerkins. The elves valued speed over strength, Boromir knew this and looking at the female elf, the way she was dressed and how she held herself, it only confirmed what he had been told as a young boy about the elves unique way of fighting.

Boromir felt uncomfortable as she held his gaze with hers. There was certain wildness in her eyes, very different from the elves of Rivendell. It both unnerved him and made him feel curious.

"Do you mind if I join you?" she asked him politely, tilting her head to the side and taking a step forwards.

He instinctively took a step back and the elf raised an eyebrow at him. He cursed inwardly.

"If you wish", he said curtly.

She nodded in thanks. Boromir returned to sit down at one of the benches. It felt as if his weight would crush it, which was silly, but he could not grasp how something as delicate as the furniture of elves could keep up the dead weight of mere mortal beings.

He shook his head, trying to focus on the task ahead. He moved the whetstone over the blade, the sound harsh against the other so calm atmosphere. Through the curtain of his light brown hair, he studied the elf. She had taken out a bow and placed a couple of arrows nearby. It was with deadly precision and a steady hand she drew her bow – an elegant thing in wood, crooked, with fine lines – and let the arrow fly. The yard was wide and the targets were placed at a distance Boromir knew that no Man could ever reach. Yet the elf's arrow hit its target with a soft 'thud' and even though Boromir squinted his eyes, he could still not see if it had it the center of the target. He moved the whetstone down his blade again as the red-haired elf picked up another arrow.

"Do you practice archery?" she asked him, not looking at him, but eyes firmly set on another target.

Boromir startled and he looked up at her, not seeing any point to pretend not to watch her any longer. He cleared his throat.

"Not anymore", he said and his voice was low. "I did when I was younger, but I've always found the bow, however useful it might be, to be a coward's weapon."

The elf turned to look at him, but she didn't look offended. She furrowed her brows as if deep in thought and he wondered if he should not have kept silent. The air felt thick before the elf spoke again:

"A coward's weapon", she repeated and let go of the arrow.

Boromir flinched ever so slightly as it connected with its target, because the elf had not broken eye contact with his as she had let go of the arrow. Was it just him or had the sound of the arrow hitting its target and the gleam in the elf's dark eyes been a bit foreboding? Boromir sat up straighter, his grip on the sword handle so tight that his knuckles appeared white. The elf lowered her bow.

"It is not a coward's weapon", she protested and her voice was determined. "It is a weapon that requires skill and sharp senses. It is a challenge. Anyone can swing a sword and cut someone to death, but to shoot an arrow…. It takes practice and a keen eye, a steady hand and a strong mind. Archery is a challenge."

She sounded passionate when she spoke about the art of archery; she seemed more alive than he had ever thought an elf could be.

Boromir clenched his jaw, feeling humiliated at the easy way she had waved away the art of swordplay. He raised his chin defiantly and put down the whetstone on the white bench he was sitting on.

"Swordplay is not by any means easy", he informed her in an offended voice.

The elf looked at him with quite the emotionless face, almost looking unsure if she had offended him or not. Boromir had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He continued:

"It requires strength to wield a sword. It is a weapon of justice. The one wielding the sword holds the power."

His words seemed to fascinate the elf. Her eyes got a faraway look in them and she looked out over the yard with its white stone floor and yellowing trees without really seeing it. Boromir's lips stretched into a small, winning smile. Then, as sudden as the elf's faraway look had appeared, something in her expression changed and her eyes were hard as they fell upon him next.

"No weapon is one of justice", she said wisely and something haunted flickered in the depths of her eyes.

"It is if the man in control of the weapon is", Boromir responded seriously.

The elf's lips quirked into a bitter smile. It looked as if she wanted to say something, but thought better of it. Instead she asked:

"Are you a good swordsman?"

The question surprised him, but he tried to not let it show.

"I am quite good."

"How so?"

"I am one of the best at home", he replied stiffly and felt like a stupid little child when the elf let out something resembling a snort and an apologetic smile.

"Forgive me", she said, still with that small, amused smile. "I am not familiar with what the Men would call their best swordsmen. My knowledge of the skills of Men is mediocre, I'm afraid to say."

"If you want to spar, I can show you", Boromir offered, though the tips of his ears turned pink at the feeling of wanting to show this elf of what he could do, wanting to impress her. He guessed – not without some bitterness – that this was how Faramir must usually feel around their father and he frowned.

The elf raised an eyebrow again at him and he felt a bit foolish under her gaze that had seen so many things.

"Spar with you…." She drew out the words as if they were foreign to her.

"Or are you afraid?" he challenged her, readjusting his sword in his hand.

The elf expression changed to one of stone and her eyes became dark, a furious spark nestling itself there. Boromir recoiled at her sorrowful glare.

"I have fought spiders in the size of large boulders", she said and her voice was steady, cold and with a hint of something fierce. "I have battled Orcs that did not fear death or pain. I have faced a dragon, which burned everything that would come in his way. So I am not afraid of a Man holding a sword, no matter how sharp it may be."

The silence that followed her words was tense and Boromir wondered if there would be wise to spar with her. He could see now, now when he was looking, that she held herself like a warrior, that her haunted eyes were those of a warrior. A wiser and lesser man might have taken back his words of sparring, but Boromir would not. After being surrounded by elves with cool and polite expressions, it was refreshing to be in the company of the red-haired elven woman. She had a fire within her.

"Shall we?" he asked her when it looked as if she had calmed down and gestured towards the empty yard.

She regarded him with a look he could not read, before smiling slightly.

"We shall."

Boromir stood up, stretching his legs and shoulders. It was needed after hours spent of sitting in the Council of Elrond. The elf put away her bow and took out two elegant knives she had hanging at her sides. Boromir watched them apprehensively.

"You do not use a sword?" he asked her, though it was obvious.

"No."

"Yet you have ruled out the art of swordplay as a lesser way of defense", Boromir concluded and couldn't help the smile of disbelief breaking out across his face.

"Show me that I am wrong, then", the elf challenged him and without waiting for an answer, she charged at him.

Boromir barely had time to raise his sword and the sound of steel against steel rang out over the quiet yard. He gave her a half nod of appreciation before going to attack.

When watching the elf fight, Boromir knew that there was a very slight chance that he could ever win. Her movements were quick and graceful. She was like flowing water; whenever he thought he got close enough to touch her, she slipped away. He suspected that she was only playing with him, testing him for her own reasons.

Her attacks were practiced and each of her knives was like snakes, waiting to strike. Boromir felt heavy and clumsy when he fought her and after a while, sweat broke out across his forehead. He grit his teeth and continued fighting, clinging to a desperate hope that he might win this duel.

Eventually, she sidestepped him and suddenly, he had one of her knives pointing at his throat. He stood completely still, panting slightly and his tunic clinging to his back with sweat. The elf did not make any move to put away her knife, but she had a pleased smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"You're good", she complimented softly, though Boromir thought it sounded as if she was talking to herself. "You will do."

She drew back her knife and straightened up, not looking the slightest bit disheveled. Boromir put down his own sword, not knowing what to say or do next.

"You seem to manage without a sword", he spoke and watched as her eyes seemed to twinkle merrily.

"Yes", she agreed. "Though I do believe that you are very skilled in your art, by the standards of Men, at least. Those few Men I've seen fight have not had the power you had. You're in control, balanced when you have a blade in your hand."

Boromir found that he could not look at her anymore and averted his eyes, tongue tied. The elf seemed to understand and she did not speak until he had gathered his thoughts and was being able to meet her gaze again.

"It was an honor to spar with you, Boromir of Gondor", the elf said with a hint of a smile and gracefully bowed her head to him.

Boromir shook his hair out of his eyes and returned the smile, albeit a bit grudgingly.

"Likewise, Warrior of Mirkwood", he replied, not forgetting the lessons in courtesy he had been forced to sit through during his younger years.

The elf smiled wider now, almost looking a bit embarrassed. Boromir blinked, the inhumanly beauty of her striking him for a second and made the surrounding area seem dull in comparison of her fiery hair, pale skin and high cheekbones, grace and gleaming eyes.

"I shall not disturb you further", she said and her expression became one of softer neutrality. It made it easier to look at her. "The prince awaits me."

With one last nod in Boromir's direction, she took up her bow in one hand and slung the quiver over her shoulder. Her steps were confident as she walked away down the path, her hair gleaming in the light from the slowly setting sun.

Boromir run a hand through his hair and sunk down onto a bench again. He did not think that he ever would understand elves. They were in a world of their own even though they walked amongst the mortals. This red-headed warrior was no exception.

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**So, that was the first chapter!**

**I would very much like to hear what you thought so far; if it's good or not (if it's not, I would like to know why and perhaps some suggestions of what I could've done better/do better). Thanks for reading!**


	2. Sam and the Lady

**Chapter 2 everyone!**

**I'm so happy for all the positive response so far, thank you all, both for reading, following, adding as favourite and revewing! **

**Flynalien: Thank you so much for your kind words! It really means a lot to me and I'm really glad you liked the chapter :) Here you have a hobbit chapter! About Legolas, don't worry; he'll get his own chapter in time and then we get to see his thoughts (I'll have that hint in mind when I write that chapter). **

**Proud2BGeek: Thank you! I'm so glad to hear that you liked the chapter and me writing this story. **

**Guest: Thank you, glad you liked it and continue I shall! **

**ClaraS: Thank you! It makes me happy that you like it :) **

**Jessie Rae Baby: Thank you! Glad you like it. Here you have a hobbit chapter :) **

**ElvesRule: Thank you! :) It's great to hear that you like the story so far and I thought it logical as well of Tauriel to go around and get a hint of what kind of persons the members of the fellowship are. **

**I do not own any characters or places; J.R.R Tolkien or Peter Jackson and Co do.**

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 2: Sam and the Lady **

Sam had always been fascinated by elves, ever since he was a little fauntling. Their air of mystery and wisdom, of their legendary beauty and skills with no equal, they had always been a perfect fairytale, representing kindness and adventure.

Sam was counting himself lucky. There were not many hobbits that could say that they had seen an elf, let alone spoken with one. Sam had not only done that; he had seen many elves in a short time and he was in awe of them, just like he had been as a young boy listening to Bilbo's stories.

Rivendell was a beautiful place, a calm and safe place. The valley offered him the answer of what he always had imagined it to look like from Bilbo's tales.

Sam was strolling around the gardens alone. He felt like he needed some time to think. At first, this journey had only been one with a simple goal; to accompany Frodo to Rivendell with the Ring. It had turned out to be more of a challenge than planned and Sam had felt that it was enough with adventure for him. They had been chased by foul creatures that previously only had existed in nightmares and they had seen things that not even the greatest fairytale could have done justice. Yes, seeing Rivendell and the elves had been wonderful, but Sam was prepared to go home. They had done their duty.

But then it had been the meeting. Now, Sam had not planned to sneak inside and eavesdrop – but who else was going to look after Merry and Pippin so they didn't do anything stupid? – though when it all came down to it, he was glad that he did. He had offered to go with Frodo and the others without a second thought. He could never have returned home to the Shire, knowing that his friend was out in the wide world, risking his life where other greater men had not offered. It was unheard of, so Sam would come and he would follow Frodo to Mordor, even if it was the last thing he would ever do.

Sam knew he wasn't the best of fighters – which made him glad that they would have company that was – but he could look after their packing and carry double if he must. Frodo would be carrying the heaviest burden of them all.

An impulsive decision, it had been, though Sam didn't regret it. However, he did need to spend some time alone to really let it sink in. He had travelled farther than he had ever done before and now he would almost cross the whole world. To an ordinary hobbit, that was quite alarming.

Since he had always liked flowers, he had ended up in the gardens. It was peaceful there and it was easier to think. His mind kept going over things they would need for their journey.

"It's a beautiful place, don't you think?"

Sam was startled at the soft, female voice and he turned on the spot and his eyes widened slightly at the sight of the red-haired elf making her way down the narrow garden path.

"Yes", Sam answered and stumbled over his words. "Yes it is. It's nothing like any other place I've ever seen."

The elf graced him with a smile, her expression soft and peaceful.

"I agree", she said and looked out over the flowerbeds and streams. "There are many different places in this world of ours, but this is truly a special place."

The elf looked to be lost in memories as she took in the calm surroundings and Sam did not dare to speak and break this illusion. He had never spoken to this particular elf before. He knew that she had arrived with Legolas, who would join them on their quest, but he did not know anything else about her.

She was different from the elves he had talked to in Rivendell. The most obvious thing was her hair, in that color of leaves in the autumn, but there was also the fact that her expression was somewhat jagged, hardened by something not many elves in Rivendell possessed. It was not melancholic wisdom or sadness, but something tired and fierce. Then another thing that separated her from the others was that she had sought him out. It wasn't like the other elves ignored him; on the contrary. Every time they were in the same room, they made sure to speak with Sam. They were polite, but none of them had ever come up to him just for a chat. Why should they? He was just Samwise Gamgee from the Shire. He had helped bringing the Ring to Rivendell and would now attribute with whatever he could on the journey for it to be destroyed, but when it all came down to it, he was just your usual gentle hobbit.

With all that in mind, Sam did not know how to act when the red-haired elf had just walked up to him. He nervously kicked a couple of pebbles with his toe.

"Where I come from", the elf spoke up and broke the silence, "we have not had flowers blooming for many years. I've missed it."

"Really?" Sam asked surprised. "No flowers? Not even during spring or summer?"

The elf smiled sadly.

"No", she confirmed and put one of her long strands of hair behind her pointy ear. "Which is why I'm going to enjoy my visit here as long as it lasts."

She sent another smile Sam's way and crouched down, reaching out a slender finger to gently caress one of the flowers. When the elf was crouched down, Sam was taller than her and he found it quite strange. The elf's long hair almost touched the ground, but she didn't seem to mind. The expression now upon her fair face made the battered hardness that previously had been carved into her features almost disappear. Sam thought this new expression suited her better and he worked up his courage to keep the conversation going, just so she wouldn't think of whatever it was that made her eyes steely.

"We have an awful lot of flowers in the Shire", he informed her and nodded as if to emphasize what he'd just said. "Mostly during spring and summer, of course, but there was still quite the lot of them when I left with Mister Frodo."

"I see." The elf turned to look at him and he thought that her eyes were so deep green that they almost appeared black. "Do you like flowers?"

"I do", Sam responded eagerly. "My old Gaffer's a gardener you see. Taught me everything I know."

"Hm. I guess that you must have a lovely garden then?" smiled the elf kindly.

Sam smiled back, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks.

"Well, yes", he admitted. "It's very nice. One of the most well-kept gardens in the whole of Hobbiton, perhaps even in the whole Shire if I may be so bold to say."

"That does sound really lovely."

"It is."

Sam trailed off, not knowing what to say next. The elf did not fill the silence with her soft voice. She was carefully touching the thin petals of a white flower that seemed to glow in the gloomy, but yet so clear light of the garden.

"Do you think it is magic that keep the flowers from withering?" Sam blurted out and smiled sheepishly as the elf turned her gaze towards him. "It's just…. I've never seen flowers so healthy before."

"We elves cherish the nature above many things", the elf explained and she looked tranquil, sitting down and surrounded by flowers. "In return, it helps us. Our presence may grant it longer life, but the nature was here before us. It may listen to us and aid us, but it doesn't bow to us."

She looked around over the sea of flowers, searching with her eyes. Sam stood quiet and waited. The elf smiled as she came across a small, white flower shaped as a star.

"This is my favorite", she informed the hobbit, not picking up the flower, but letting it be.

"A starflower", Sam said knowingly and nodded. "In the deepest of forests, I'll gladly live with you. That's what starflower means or represents", he hurried to say and awkwardly shifted his bare feet.

"Is it? I've never known."

"Well, my Gaffer's an enthusiastic gardener", said Sam and tried not to be too proud of knowing something not even an elf knew.

"Hm. And this?"

The elf gestured at a rose in almost the same color as Sam's curls, only a bit brighter and colorful.

"It means fascination or enchantment", he explained and felt pleased when the elf's face seemed to relax even more. "And cornflower means that the most beautiful is not always the most important", he added before the elf could ask.

"It's truly a gift you have", she smiled and let her hand fall from the cornflower. She stood up, tall once again. "What is your favorite flower?"

Sam furrowed his brows and thought of it. It was not a question he was usually asked, almost like it was silly for a gardener to have a favorite amongst his subjects. Sam could think of a lot of flowers that had a certain appeal to them; the coltsfoot, yellow and a sign of spring, the rose with their soft petals and strong colors, the lilac with its tiny flowers and wildness. There were so many different flowers.

"I like the simple flowers", Sam admitted with a small smile. "I'm a simple hobbit."

"I disagree", the elf said, much to Sam's surprise. "I think you are very brave. I heard that it was not an easy journey for you here, not with what you were carrying, but you and your friends managed. And now, you're leaving to face the unknown in this world."

"My Lady", Sam stuttered, turning red and glancing shyly at her from beneath his lashes. "I'm not brave."

"And I am not a Lady", the elf countered, but her smile was still kind.

"Well", Sam said slowly, still appearing to be a bit flustered. "My mother always said to treat girls like they were a lady. Besides", he continued, looking at her with curiosity. "How can you be anything else when travelling in the company of a prince?"

The red-haired elf averted her eyes and her smile was a bit sad now. Sam immediately felt bad for having offended her and he hurried to say:

"Forgive me if I offended you, my Lady…."

"There is no need for apologizing", the elf assured him. "It is not strange for assumptions to be made." She paused, a small wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows, before straightening up and smiling again. "Your mother raised you well", she praised him. "I am sure that whomever you chose to love will be a lucky woman."

Sam thought of Rosie Cotton – of the way she used to have ribbons in her curly hair and the way dimples appeared when she smiled whenever he had brought her a flower – and he felt a pang of sadness when his thoughts of her were replaced with thoughts of uncertainty of what lied ahead of him and his companions.

"One can hope", he smiled wistfully; his dark eyes holding a sad look to them.

"Yes", the elf said softly and she looked at him gravely. "As long as one can hope, everything is not lost."

Sam glanced to the ground and then out over the garden. A few birds were chirping and the air shook by the slight thrill of the flowing streams. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and sighed in content as peace filled his chest, drove away any dark thoughts he might have.

The elf watched him. Sam could feel her eyes on him. He tried not to squirm under the power of her gaze. It was as if she was trying to decide what to think of him and Sam thought she could do that without him trying to chatter. His mother had also taught him not to bother a lady.

When the elf spoke again, her voice was still soft, but she sounded pleased all the same. Sam thought that he had passed whatever test it was she had put him through.

"I shall leave you to enjoy the rest of the garden. The prince will probably need to speak with me."

Sam looked up at her and she smiled down at him. She bowed her head with an elegant move of her neck and Sam felt a bit flustered at the formal and respectful gesture. Who would believe him home in the Shire if he told them that he had seen elves, spoken to them and that one had even bowed to him?

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Samwise Gamgee", the elf continued and rewarded him with a wide smile that made her face seem to glow.

"Likewise, my Lady", stuttered Sam and hastily bowed, averting his eyes from her unearthly beauty.

Giving him one last kind smile, the elf turned on her heels and walked away in the same direction she had come from. Her steps did not make any sound as her feet touched the ground. Sam watched her go with a thoughtful face. Her walk was proud and graceful; her words had been kind and her smiles even kinder.

Sam thought as the elf disappeared up the path, soon hidden by trees, that while she may not be the lady of his heart, she still was a lady. Perhaps the lady of the prince's heart?

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**So, that was Sam. Hope you liked it! **

**The fact about the flowers have I got from the internet, though I'm not 100% sure if 'starflower' is the correct name in English, but I hope you get what kind of flower I was aiming for. **

**Thanks for reading! **


	3. Pippin and the Ally

**Chapter 3 everyone! **

**This was a bit tricky to write, though I hope it turned out alright. **

**Thanks to all readers, followers, favourites and reviewers! Your support means a lot to me and the response on the story so far has been lovely. Thank you! **

**A Guest-reviewer wondered if there would be some romance between Legolas and Tauriel and yes, that will possibly occur in Legolas's chapter, perhaps a hint of it in a couple of the other chapters as well, though I'm not sure. Then there were some that wondered what Legolas would be doing all this time and I say; he's practicing archery, talking to other elves from Rivendell, relaxing or - as guest-reviewer suggested - climbing a tree :P Though for those who want more Legolas; he will get his own chapter in time, plus that he will make a brief appearance in the next chapter. **

**I do not own any characters or places; J.R.R Tolkien or Peter Jackson and Co do. **

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 3: Pippin and the Ally **

Pippin was not a hobbit that cared much for design and furnishing. No, he preferred simpler things, more enjoyable things, like a good pint of mead, a good smoke or a basket filled with freshly picked mushrooms. But even though he lacked any interest and possibly knowledge about furnishing, even he knew that one did not simply put a vase – a nice-looking vase, ancient and perhaps even without an equal – so that anyone could go and trip over it. Honestly, didn't their mothers teach them anything?

Pippin sighed and bit his lip, watching the shards with slightly panicked eyes. He had not meant to break it; it had just simply been in his way. The crash had been loud, shards of glass shattered all over the stone floor. Pippin knew he wasn't the most graceful of hobbits – which his father often would point out, though with a fond smile, because he had inherited that trait from said father – but he thought that he should have known to be more careful.

The room he had managed to find didn't look anything like a hobbit hole. Like most of Rivendell, this room was bright and open; having a clear view over the valley should he venture out on the balcony. The furniture was delicate, pale and shaped into a design Pippin could only describe as 'elven-like'. Everything seemed so clean and ancient. In a beautiful carved bookshelf stood a couple of books bound in colorful leather; there was a couch draped in the finest of silks; there was a candelabra towering up higher than Pippin, like a silver tree. There were other trinkets as well, but they didn't mean anything special to Pippin.

It had been his idea that he and Merry should play hide-and-seek, just to try to relax a bit after the meeting. It was not the first time Merry and Pippin had rushed headfirst into a decision without thinking too much into it. But they couldn't let Frodo and Sam face the unknown by themselves – though they would have other company that probably could attribute with more than the two hobbits – so them joining the fellowship had been inevitable. Pippin knew that he was not the sharpest tool in the box, but he was a Took and they never did anything less than wholeheartedly. Yes, this quest would be dangerous and they may die, but Pippin would worry about that when the time came. For now, his biggest problem was the broken vase on the floor.

The vase had been white, with hints of rainbow in it. It was quite a sad sight, Pippin thought, seeing all the sharp pieces scattered over the floor. He wondered what the elves would say and thought in horror that perhaps they would forbid him to go on the quest.

Suddenly, his ears caught the sound of someone coming; very light footsteps, almost nonexistent. The young hobbit looked around the room, panicked, and prayed that it was Merry that was coming. He rather lost the game than being found by an elf or worse – Gandalf. Pippin scrunched up his face and when opening his eyes again, there was an elf standing in the doorway. He drew a quick breath.

It was a woman with bright, red hair, dark eyes and features as sharp and elegant as the shards of the vase on the floor. She was all dressed in green with high leather boots and two long knives attached to her hips. She looked dangerous. Pippin did not know her name, but he knew that she had arrived with Legolas because they were usually seen together. The elf came to a halt as she saw him, her face void of any emotions, and Pippin found it quite disconcerting.

"I didn't do it!" he blurted out of old habit.

The elf raised an eyebrow at him, looking at him pointedly. Pippin felt blood rush to his cheeks and averted his eyes, glaring at his feet, before looking up and facing her again.

"I didn't mean to", he said softly.

"I didn't think you did", the elf said and her voice was warm, yet having a sort of musically sound to it. "Though the vase is destroyed nevertheless."

Pippin bit his lip, words trapped in his throat. The elf kept looking at him and her dark eyes seemed to cut through his very soul. They were hypnotizing.

"We were playing hide-and-seek", he explained, babbling when he could do little else. "For fun, you know? We used to play it at home when we were younger, Merry and I, and it was impossible to resist when coming here. It is really a wonderful place…." Pippin trailed off, lost in the magnificent area around him, but recovered quickly: "So I was trying to hide and I managed to…."

"Knock over the vase", the elf finished and walked into the room.

Pippin nodded. The elf did not look angry, but her expression was still cool and that made her features seem sharper.

"Accidents happens", she continued and her gaze glided over the broken vase on the floor. "Though you should not be so quick to draw a lie."

Pippin bowed his head at her inquisitive stare, trying to hide his face behind his brown curls. He then nervously glanced up at the tall elf.

"I suppose that it is a habit", he said softly. "A bad one."

The elf did not reply, but Pippin could sense that she agreed with him. Pippin didn't lie very often – only when he got into trouble. The words of denial whenever something has gone wrong; they just would tumble out of his mouth.

"I used to play hide-and-seek with my friend as well when I was just an elfling", the elf suddenly said and walked around the room, hands on her back and inspecting it.

"Really?" Pippin wondered, perking up.

"Yes", the elf confirmed and shot him a small smile. "The castle was the perfect place for it, because no one really knows all of its secrets, perhaps except the king."

"Is it different from here, your home?" Pippin asked, noticing how the elf had gotten a wistful look in her eyes.

"It is", she answered. "Once, Mirkwood was a beautiful place, a thriving forest…."

"What happened?" he interrupted, curious, for the elf's eyes had gone sad.

"The world happened", she said heavily. "Darkness started to creep in over the forest, poisoning the water and twisting the trees. Hide-and-seek did not seem so important after that. We had played it to escape the world, Legolas and I, but it became harder to do so and we grew older."

"Legolas?" Somehow, Pippin had some difficulty with seeing the tall, blond elf prince as a child, running around and playing.

The elf seemed to read his thoughts and her lips quirked to an amused smile.

"Yes", she replied. "Is that so difficult to imagine?"

"A bit", confessed Pippin, offering the elf a sheepish smile. "I've never really thought of you elves as being children once. You just seem to be like you've been like this forever." He gestured at her. "Tall, ageless and wise. It does not leave out much for fun in my opinion."

For a brief moment, Pippin thought the elven woman would laugh. The corners of her mouth were twitching, as if waiting, but instead, she just gave him a slightly bigger smile then before. Pippin could not help but feel a bit disappointed, heart sinking at the loss.

"Why did you and your friend decide to play now?" the elf asked him, tilting her head curiously to the side.

Pippin tapped his chin thoughtfully, furrowing his brows and his eyes got serious, unconsciously flickering to the broken vase on the floor.

"We did it for fun and to explore", he told her. "We needed to think of something else than the upcoming journey, I think."

"Are you scared?" the elf wondered and her voice was low and her eyes dark but with a strange gleam to it. "Afraid of what you will face on this journey?"

Pippin frowned and felt offended. He jutted out his chin and straightened up to his fullest height, which was not so impressive comparing to the elf. His young face had taken on a very serious look and that seemed to take the elf by surprise.

"I may not be the most graceful person", he began and his muddy green eyes lost whatever mischievous spark that had been there before. "Sometimes, I tell a little white lie. I am not very brave or strong." He swallowed, but his voice did not falter. "But no matter which faults I might have; where I come from, you don't give up on family. Frodo is family and I promised that I would follow him to whatever dark place we are going to. You, an elf of great beauty and wisdom, may not think my word worth much, but I would never abandon neither friends nor family. And as long as Frodo, Merry and Sam know this, well, that is enough for me."

The elf watched him carefully now, an unreadable expression upon her ageless face. Pippin felt his skin crawl and he looked away, back onto the ruined vase on the floor. Was the broken vase a sign, perhaps?

Suddenly, Pippin thought that he could hear footsteps approaching and he grimaced, but stayed where he was. He would not run and hide. He would take responsibility for his actions; it would be rude not to when the elves had shown nothing but hospitality towards their guests. Pippin's stomach also lurched uncomfortably at the imaginary looks of disappointment his fellow hobbits and even his new comrades in the fellowship would give him when hearing about his mishap with the vase.

The elf's gaze flickered towards him at the sound of approaching steps and a flash of something torn and very human made a brief appearance across her face. Then her face was set in determination.

"Hide", she said to him and Pippin blinked in surprise, not sure if he had heard her correctly. The elf looked as if she would have liked to roll her eyes. "Hide. I will take care of this."

Pippin hesitated, but almost reflexively, he did as she asked. He frantically looked around and as the steps got closer, he dived under the couch, letting the silky blanket fall down to hide him, only leaving a slight slit above the floor to glance through.

"Ah, there you are", Pippin could hear the wise voice of Lord Elrond sweep through the room. "I believe that Legolas was looking for you."

"My Lord."

Pippin peeked out from beneath the couch and watched as the hem of Lord Elrond's autumn-colored robe came into view. Pippin took a sharp intake of breath as he saw the elven lord stop at the broken vase.

"I seem to have gotten clumsier", the female elf said, answering Elrond's unspoken question and Pippin felt bad for hiding.

"That I do not believe", answered Elrond and Pippin imagined him to give the other elf a pointed look.

"It was like this when I arrived here", the red-haired elf said and that was the truth, Pippin supposed.

"Ah."

Both elves were quiet and Pippin barely dared to breathe in case he would be heard. Then Elrond spoke:

"I will send someone to care for this mess later, giving the culprit time to confess. Luckily, this vase was from Elladan's days of trying to be a glassblower. I think the valley could manage without it."

There was a slight tone of amusement in the elven lord's voice, probably thinking of a memory that was not tarnished by age.

"Legolas was down at the training yard with Aragorn and Glorfindel when I last saw him, and he requested your presence."

"Then I shall seek him out. You did not need to go looking for me, my Lord…."

"Something I did with pleasure", Elrond interrupted, his voice warm. "There are so rare moments when we get visitors from the Woodland Realm. I would like to cherish this opportunity as long as you stay here. There are darker powers taking over the world and I do not see how this will end."

There was a deep seriousness, sadness, in the old elf's voice and Pippin felt so small where he was hiding under the couch. The two elves exchanged some words in elvish – soft, magical and strange words to Pippin's hobbit ears – before Elrond disappeared from Pippin's sight, leaving him to look at the red-haired elf's leather boots and the shimmering pieces of the broken vase.

"You can come out now", said the elf and her voice was kind.

Pippin crawled out from underneath the couch, putting aside the blanket. His trousers were not dirty at the knees, because the stone floor had been clean, having a blankness to it that was eerie for stone. His shirt had been wrinkled from lying on the floor.

"Why did you do that?" he asked her, his voice wondrous and small.

The elf didn't reply, just looked at him with unreadable eyes. Pippin fidgeted nervously underneath her gaze and he lowered his eyes once more to the floor. He crouched down and hesitantly reached out for one of the shards of glass. It felt cool and so fragile in his hand. Pippin continued to gather the pieces of glass carefully and with a feeling of sorrow for having broken something so beautiful.

"What are you doing?" the elf questioned, her voice a bit tense.

"I'm going to take the pieces to Lord Elrond and apologize", Pippin answered determinedly, not looking at her. "I cannot hide away all my life from trouble. In fact, I should not have done it from the start."

The elf was quiet after his words. They could only hear the chirping of the birds outside, the slightly distant sound of flowing water and the sound of glass clinking together as Pippin kept picking them up and put them in a pile at his hairy feet. He was careful and tried not to cut himself on the shards' sharp edges.

"Do you need any help?" the elf eventually asked and she seemed a bit edgy.

"No, thank you", Pippin replied in an attempt of his usually cheerful voice. "This was my doing and I am going to take full responsible for it. Don't keep Legolas waiting. I don't think that he will like it."

"If you are certain."

Yet the elf seemed hesitant to leave. Her brows were furrowed and behind her dark eyes, there was a storm brewing.

"Why did you do that?" Pippin repeated his previous question, hoping to get another reaction from the elf, who now looked uncertain.

It succeeded. The elf's expression turned softer, her lips curling into a sad, half-smile.

"I think you know why", she replied softly.

Pippin thought hard. He thought of how she had saved him from the confrontation with Elrond; a confrontation that would have been sudden and on the elf lord's terms. She had covered for him and she had kind of given him a choice. Though Pippin did not know if she had wanted him to hide or not. Yet he would face the Lord of Rivendell, but he would do it on his own terms. He would apologize and he would truly be regretful. She had given him a chance to do it in his own way.

Pippin blinked and gave her a careful, sweet smile.

"I think I do", he said seriously. "Thank you."

The elf smiled a bit wider now and that made her look more beautiful; her eyes shining and her bright red hair giving her the appearance of being alive. She nodded at him, before turning on her heels and left Pippin to his chore.

Pippin could understand why Legolas would always keep her near. An ally was always good to have, especially now when darker times were approaching.

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**I'm not really sure about this chapter, if I did Pippin justice. I wanted to portray both his childish side and serious one, because I think that he's more than comic relief in the movies. Please leave a review on your thoughts, but if you don't want to, that's fine. Thanks for reading! **


	4. Gimli and the Healer

**So, chapter 4 everyone and it's the longest chapter so far! **

**Thanks to all readers, followers, favourites and reviewers! I'm so glad that there's so many of you that enjoy this story. It makes it twice as fun to write! **

**This is Gimli's chapter, which I hope that the reviewer Pam will like, since she was looking forwards to it :) but that it will be to the liking of the rest of you as well! **

**I do not own any characters or places; J.R.R Tolkien or Peter Jackson and Co do. **

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 4: Gimli and the Healer**

Gimli looked at his plate of food, disgruntled. It was a heap of salad, so green that his eyes almost hurt, a couple of other colorful vegetables and white bread that actually tasted rather good. Next to him, his father was muttering that the food had not gotten better since the last time he had been there. Gimli smirked ever so slightly, having heard that particular story a lot of times before.

The dining room was rather crowded, but Gimli was not too pleased with the company since most of them were elves. But then again, that was to be expected. They were in the home of elves, after all.

Gimli was not very impressed by Rivendell. It was too bright and so open to the world in a way. It felt like they could be attacked at any moment and if that happened, the valley would break. Of course Gimli knew that was not the truth. The valley should not have been able to stay as it was, unreachable and untouched, without some kind of protection. The air oozed with magic and the elves light and pretty voices could speak harsh words to protect their home.

"At least they have laid down on the music", Glóin said from his seat next to Gimli, munching on a carrot, a goblet of wine nearby. "I could not stand anymore of this tinkling business. It is bad enough as it is."

There was no music present at the dinner, but most of the attending were elves and their light, musically voices gave the vast, open room an appearance of music playing anyway. Gimli agreed with his father. He had never met any creatures like elves before. They were in a world of their own, with their unearthly voices, tall figures that made it seem like a gust of wind would blow them over, sharp and angular features and their bottomless eyes that seemed to be seeing things that did not exist. Odd folks, there was no questioning about it.

"I see what you mean", Gimli sighed and eyed his food with a miserable look. "It's different from back home."

That it was. At the dwarfs' home in the Lonely Mountain, it was usually a rowdy and loud mood, warm fires in the fireplaces and over those, spits with meat being roasted. They would usually sit in groups, drinking golden ale and sing songs to match the mood of the room. A proper meal was not deemed finished until the table was clear and at least three of the dinner guests had been hit with some sort of food. There was a feeling of comradeship amongst dwarves that was not there amongst the elves.

"Aye", Glóin chuckled a bit bittersweet. "That it is. Still, it is different from my first time here. Everything was lighter then, more relaxed."

Father and son were quiet for a moment. Glóin was lost in thought and Gimli continued gulping down his wine – it was too sweet for him really, but it was much better than their 'supposed food' – and watching his surroundings. If his eyes didn't deceive him, then there were elves everywhere and Gimli felt very out of place. There he was; stocky when the elves were thin; short when the elves were tall, and with a magnificent beard in an alarming shade of red amongst the clean-shaved elves, most of them were dark-haired with the occasional blond. Not even his father could no longer match his vibrant hair color, his hair and beard being more grey than auburn nowadays.

But, as Gimli watched the elves around the dining room, he noticed that he was not all alone in the room with having a special hair color. At another table sat an elf with hair in the same auburn tone as Gimli's, only shimmering more in gold and looking silky. Otherwise, she looked like the typical elf, Gimli thought. She had the same elegant features, pointy ears and eyes that had seen too much.

He frowned as he refilled his cup. The elf was sitting together with the elven prince of Mirkwood, the blond one that would accompany Gimli and the others on the journey to destroy the One Ring. Legolas, if Gimli remembered correctly, which he thought he did. The prince also had long hair, which seemed to be a common trait amongst elves, and together with his fair features made him seem more like a lass than a lad, but Gimli had noticed that that was a common mistake to make. It was not as if his name made it any easier. Legolas….

"You're staring", Glóin said, not looking up from his plate.

"Hm?" Gimli grunted and looked away from the two mismatched elves. "I did not."

"I know you are not entirely pleased with the elf coming with you", Glóin began, "and to be honest, I am not particularly thrilled either. But you will need every good fighter with you and trust me, he his good with a bow. I have seen him use it on both spiders and Orcs."

At his father's words, Gimli came to realize something, something he should have realized long ago, but to be fair; his mind had been occupied with thoughts of the upcoming journey and danger.

"He's the king's son", he said, as if the title of 'prince' didn't make that clear enough. "The same king that kept you and the Company prisoned years ago? Thranduil?"

Glóin nodded, but at the mention of the Company, his eyes had gone sad and his old face seemed older behind his still very impressive beard.

"I once went on a quest", he said heavily and his dark eyes became clouded with memories. "And now it's your turn. I can only hope that your journey will be safer and more uneventful than mine was."

"I don't", said Gimli, his thoughts of the elves momentarily forgotten, and smiled roughly, taking another gulp of his wine. "I need the excitement."

Glóin sighed and smiled sadly at his son.

"You do not know of what you speak of", he said gruffly. "Excitement and action is thrilling, yes, but going on quests like these…. It's something else. You will come to fear for your own survival and of that of those around you." Glóin paused, staring darkly into his elegant cup of wine before looking up and continuing: "I'm proud of you, son, and I will always be. You got your wish of an adventure at last."

Gimli was at loss for words. Not many knew that under his gruff demeanor, Glóin was a rather sensitive dwarf, valuing his use of feelings. Gimli had found himself to be the same. Not anyone who was not close to the two of them could say that their hearts were not as made of stone as many would think.

Gimli cleared his throat, wanting to speak of something else. Who knew when he would see his father the next time? Since there was barely anything else to see than elves, Gimli had to grudgingly accept that it would have to be the subject of conversation for now, if only to break his loss for words.

"Who is she, then?" he asked his father, nodding towards the red-haired woman. "Did she join in in the capturing of the Company?"

"She did", Glóin admitted, but there was something strange about his expression as he said so. "She was also the one that healed Kíli after he had been shot by that Orc. I was not there myself, but my brother – your uncle – said that it was extraordinary. I guess it was. An elf saving a dwarf! And after helping capture him to boot. She saved him. You've heard the tale, though in the end, healing him did nothing to help the bitter end that awaited the young prince."

Both father and son sat in a strained silence after that, remembering other dark times that had passed and now risen again.

Gimli remembered Kíli, however vaguely that memory would be. He remembered a tall lad, with an almost nonexistent beard – which Gimli had teased him for constantly since he had had a fuller beard than his older relative – and usually a bright smile upon his face. A life that had ended too early, along with his brother and uncle, the last of the line of Durin.

After the revelation, Gimli watched the red-haired elf with more interest now. When inspecting her closer, he thought he saw some signs that differed her from her kin. Her smile was wider, more open, but her eyes were reserved and sharp, pained. She seemed fiercer, her posture stiff and ready for battle, yet her hands moved with a careful grace over whatever she touched, having certain gentleness to them that often were possessed by healers.

She was talking to Legolas and both of them seemed to be in their own world, positively glowing in the bright light of the valley that was almost as if it would never fade, shimmering with magic. Gimli frowned at the two of them, because while none of the elves expressed a certain emotion, there was something there, almost like a missing piece of a bigger picture. The two elves just fitted together and made quite the picture; fire and ice.

"Are they not quite sweet together?" Glóin asked his son, whose frown deepened and mouth almost turning into a scowl. "Some are just made to be together. I believe that the elven princeling will be sad to leave her behind and the feeling looks to be mutual."

"Wonderful", Gimli replied sarcastically. "Just what I needed on the journey; a lovesick elf moping after his beloved while the rest of us is trying to do our duty. As if it was not already bad enough with the company of an elf…."

Unlike his father, who, under his rough and tough attitude, was soft at heart to anything that had something to do with love, Gimli had never been a romantic. He found the subject of love rather dull and sometimes pointless, something distracting. Amongst dwarves, love was something rare, but deeply cherished, one being considering very lucky if having found someone they wanted to spend a lifetime with. Looking at the two elves, where stars looked to be coming out of their eyes like hope, happiness and devotion, Gimli guessed that love, no matter race, was something precious.

That did not mean, however, that he would understand it.

"Love is something to be happy for", Glóin scolded lightly, smiling behind the bushy beard of his. "Why couldn't you have found a nice lass to settle down with, hm? Both your mother and I wonder about that…."

"Because we're short of dwarf women", Gimli answered, having heard this question a lot of times. "Plus I am devoted to my craft."

He reached out to pat one of his axes – the same axe he had inherited from his father – as if to prove his point. Glóin only sighed and shook his head, muttering under his breath with how nice it would be to have grandchildren before it was too late.

Feeling suddenly tired of sitting down and being lulled into a bright, false sense of safety, Gimli stood up and announced that he was going for a walk, anything for a moment of peace and quiet alone. Glóin nodded, trying not to look too sad about that fact that his son would soon be gone for a long time and perhaps, if fate was too cruel, for good.

The air was pleasantly chilly outside, a clear sign of autumn. Gimli took a deep breath, the cool air sweeping through him like the purest of water. It was nice, actually.

"Master dwarf?"

Gimli nearly jumped in surprise, his eyes flickering from side to side while looking for any enemy and his hand going to his weapon. When realizing that there was no real danger, only the red-haired elf from the dining room, Gimli huffed.

"Yes?" he said gruffly, not even trying to be polite.

If his eyes didn't deceive him, he thought the elf looked amused; there was something there that he had not seen in any other elves faces. He crossed his arms over his chest and he hated that he had to look up at her. He stared at her, waiting for her to continue. She gave him a slight smile and was about to speak when a shout in elvish stopped her. She turned around and behind her, marching towards them with long strides, Gimli could see Legolas approaching. He sighed loudly, not caring if the elves heard him, and shook his head, annoyed. Lovesick elves…. tedious business.

Legolas came and joined them on the narrow bridge and by the look he gave Gimli, Gimli would not be surprised if he should be the first one to be pushed down in the silver stream below should something go wrong. He edged closer to the delicate railing, not understanding the elves sense of fashion or security with only having one side protected.

The blond elf stopped and spared Gimli a quick glance with icy blue eyes before yet again saying something in elvish to his companion. Gimli made a point of sighing really loudly, making Legolas glare at him and the red-haired elf's lips twitch.

"You go back", she said in Common to Legolas, turning away from Gimli. "I will be with you shortly."

The lines around his mouth showed that he was displeased by her words, but he let it be. Legolas nodded and gave Gimli a sour look before retreating back into the building. Gimli still had a disgruntled look upon his face as the blond elf took his leave.

"What did you want?" he asked the red-haired elf abruptly, not seeing a point of beating around the bush. "Is there something you wish to discuss with me?"

"As a matter of fact, it is", she replied, not seeming bothered by his tone at all. She moved to stand so that she was leaning against the railing. "I was friends with a dwarf once."

Gimli blinked.

"I know", he muttered, not moving and not taking his eyes of the fair creature in front of him.

"I healed him", the elf continued, her voice blending together with the pure, rippling sound of the stream. "I tried my best to aid him and his friends when the dragon came and after."

"I know", Gimli repeated gruffly, louder this time. "I've heard the story. My father was there, as was my uncle." He swallowed. "Kíli was family. All of them were."

The elf lowered her eyes, keeping them fixed on the flowing water below and it reflected in her eyes, making them look blank.

"I am so sorry", she said softly and Gimli felt a bit uncomfortable.

"What for?" he wondered, now leaning against the railing as well. "It was a long time ago."

"I wished that I could have done more."

"You did enough", Gimli assured her, not knowing exactly why he felt the need to comfort her. "You did more than any of your kind had done before towards a dwarf."

The elf looked at him and smiled a little, though it was still a smile of sadness.

"I hope that one day, the bonds between elves and dwarves can be strong, stronger than ever before. I believe that there's a too short time for us not to try to make amends."

Her words were sincere, but Gimli could not help but admire her nerve. First brining up memories of someone long forgotten, playing with his emotions, only to then try, not so subtly, to convince him to befriend an elf and he thought he knew which elf she had in mind. He surprised both of them when he let out a loud, deep chuckle.

"The cheek of you", he chuckled at her wide-eyed look. "Twisting and turning words, but that's expected of an elf."

"I did not mean to offend, I…."

"You've got some nerve, lass", Gimli interrupted. "There's no point in denying it." Then the amusement disappeared from his voice. "Elves and dwarves have always had a gap between them, a distance far too wide to cross. What you ask for is perhaps not a miracle, but something difficult."

"I crossed that gap", the elf said and there was a fierceness in her voice, mixed with a bit of sadness. "It is not impossible."

"Nevertheless", continued Gimli and fixed her with a shrewd look. "I still think it very ambitious of you to try and fix friends for your blond princeling."

"You misunderstood me", the elf insisted and her expression was guarded now, her voice chillier. "I did not try to do any of the sort. I just want you to see that when it comes down to it, neither elves nor dwarves are that different. We breathe, we bleed and we feel. Is it too much to ask of you to try and put your grudge aside and get along with Legolas? I think that your journey would be more…. pleasant, if that was to happen."

"I will if he will", Gimli replied and rolled his eyes.

"Good", said the elf in a determined voice. "I shall speak to him about it."

At that, Gimli could not help but chuckle once more. The elf watched him with a bit of uncertainty in her eyes, as if she was starting to get second thoughts about it all.

"Of course he will listen to you." Gimli shook his head as if any other thought was preposterous. "After all, you mean a lot to him, don't you?"

The elf did not answer, but the faintest trace of pink graced her cheeks. Gimli knew he had hit spot on.

"The prince listens to my advice, yes", the elf said carefully, as if afraid of the dwarf's reaction, oddly enough.

"It cannot be easy for him to leave you behind", Gimli mused out loud, wishing that he had his pipe near. All the talking made him long for a smoke. "But all of us leave something of value behind now for this journey. The elf is no different than the rest of us."

As soon as the words had left his lips, the red-haired elf broke out into such a breathtaking smile that Gimli had to blink a couple of times to assure himself that this wasn't a dream. At that moment, she was far more beautiful than any jewel he had ever laid eyes upon; a mixture of rubies and diamonds with streaks of gold, all shaped into the form of an elf.

"That is what I have been trying to tell you", she said softly, her eyes like emerald and onyx. "We are not that different."

Gimli looked away, finding her very difficult to look at in this moment. Sorcery and magical tricks, something very elven-like. In a voice that was not quite his own, he said:

"I will take your advice in mind. For Kíli's sake."

"For Kíli", the elf repeated melancholically. "Thank you, master dwarf."

He did not look at her, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw her give him something between a nod and a bow. He grunted in response. Her footsteps were light as she left him standing on the narrow bridge, a blur of red and green still in the corner of his eye. Gimli let out a breath he did not know that he had been holding, but it felt nice to let it out. Somehow, as the red-haired woman had left, the air felt lighter and Rivendell looked brighter and fresher than before, if that was even possible. The birds chirped merrily in the trees and the sun was slowly making its way down far away in the horizon. The dwarf felt calm and peaceful, his soul not as heavy any longer and his mind was not as dark as before.

Gimli thought that perhaps his father was right, that the red-haired elf was a healer, in her own way.

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**That was Gimli. What did you think? A bit of mixed feelings regarding the elves. I would love to hear your opinion and if you have any questions, leave a review or send me a PM and I'll try to answer the best I can. **

**Thanks for reading! **


	5. Merry and the Adventurer

**Chapter 5, everyone! **

**Sorry that this chapter is a bit late, but it's up now at least. **

**Thanks to all readers, followers, favourites and reviewers! **

**Pam: I am really glad that you liked the chapter, that it didn't disappoint. Thanks for reviewing and for your kind words!  
**

**ElvesRule: Thanks for reviewing! It's great to hear that you liked the chapter and my portrayal of Gimli. Yeah, Legolas might be a bit jealous since it wouldn't be the first time Tauriel befriends a dwarf and Gimli and Kili are releated (however distantly), so who knows? :P And I'm also glad that you found it good enough to share with your roomie!  
**

**Flynalien: I'm glad that you liked my portrayal of Gimli and what he thinks of our two favourite elves, especially Tauriel. Thanks for reviewing!  
**

**Proud2BGeek: Thanks for reviewing and for your kind words! I'm really glad that you liked the chapter and I'm sure Legolas would've wondered something like that, haha.  
**

**ClaraS: Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you liked the chapter and I appreciate your suggestions for the Frodo-chapter. We'll see what I'll do :)  
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**Sally72: Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad to hear that you think that I mix the two different stories very well and I'm really pleased to hear that you're liking Tauriel more and more!  
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**TikiB8R: Thanks for reviewing! I agree with you: Tauriel's definitely trying her best to make all of them friendlier towards each other. Sorry, no Frodo in this chapter; this is Merry's chapter. Hope it will do!  
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**1980sp8ceGi: Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you like the story so much. Yes, only 9 chapters, though I _m__ight_ be persuaded to write 10 chapters... or 11, but no more!  
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**DaughterOfStars:Thanks for reviewing! It's great to hear that you like the story and that you have read 'Waiting an eternity & forever late' as well.  
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**I do not own any characters or places; J.R.R Tolkien or Peter Jackson and Co do. **

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 5: Merry and the Adventurer**

Merry was sitting alone on a secluded balcony, his pipe lazily tucked into his mouth. He had not seen any elves smoke during his stay in Rivendell and he thought that it would perhaps be for the best if he did not smoke in the presence of an elf. They might be allergic for all he knew and even though Merry came from a slightly eccentric family; his mother had at least taught him to be polite in the home of another.

The hobbit exhaled a puff of smoke, a white mist taking off into the sky that was a clear blue this lovely autumn day. He was not as skilled as Gandalf when it came to making smoke figures – being a wizard surely must have its perks – but he enjoyed it nonetheless. There was something very peaceful with smoking, Merry had always thought, and Rivendell seemed to bring it out even more so. Everything about the valley was peaceful and calm. It was quite difficult to imagine the place as anything else.

Merry let out another breath of smoke, watching as it was ripped apart by the slight breeze and he glimpsed two birds passing by at incredible speed, their merry tunes cutting through the air.

As he watched the wonders of the valley, he could not help but ponder about what would happen in the future. He doubted that he would ever see such a magnificent place as Rivendell again, but when he thought of it; how could he know? Before all _this _– or whatever one could call the thrilling and nerve-wracking journey to Rivendell – Merry had rarely left the Shire. If he had, it had only been for a brief trip to Bree, but that was unusual. The curly-haired hobbit knew nothing of the world, nothing out of the safe borders of the Shire, though he had more than once found his gaze to travel to the maps that had adorned old Bilbo's walls whenever Merry had been there as a fauntling and listened to stories. The world had always been fascinating to him, something you wanted to enjoy and discover, but never really dared to. And now, he would see it all. For a small hobbit like him, that was quite the big step.

He had no idea what to expect of the upcoming journey. Dangers, possibly, hardship and horrible weather. They might go days without any proper meals (second breakfast and elevensies would they probably have to manage without completely) and they were supposed to protect a small, golden trinket that was the only thing that stood between Middle Earth's chance of freedom and the Dark Lord's utter destruction of the world.

Merry blinked, everything dawning up on him what he had agreed to. Yet he was determined to go through with it. He was not going to let his friends go alone. Besides all the obvious lurking dangers they would face – he shuddered as he remembered the Ring Wraiths – the young hobbit couldn't help but feel excitement rush through his veins. He was going on an adventure. He was going to matter. He was going to help save Middle Earth with whatever skill he could attribute with.

"Are you not afraid of falling?" a female voice came sneaking up on him and Merry turned his head around, one hand gripping the edge of the balcony railing.

There was an elf standing behind him, an elf as lovely as this day of autumn, just as cold and yet having the signs of something warm both in her eyes and in the way she smiled. He recognized her as the elf that was usually not too far away from Legolas, almost as if she was afraid of letting him out of her sight.

Merry put aside his pipe and carefully leaned forwards, looking down. His hairy, bare feet were dangling a bit above the ground. His toes barely touched the high grass and flowers. He turned to look at the elf, nodding seriously with a solemn expression.

"Well, yes", he answered, shifting a bit. "That's why I chose the shortest way to the ground."

The elf's lips twitched as they were indeed on one of the lower plans of the buildings.

"I see", she said and moved to stand next to him. "Clever."

Merry grinned at her and noticed that up close her eyes seemed to be in the same color as the hills of the Shire. He reached her to her chin as he was sitting down on the balcony railing and she was standing, her palms pressed to the cool surface of the railing. The elf looked tranquil as she watched over the valley, a couple of elves walking around in the distance. At least Merry assumed they were elves; they were tall after all. Something thoughtful entered the elf's eyes and Merry wondered why she was there with him and not with her own kind as her longing glances were enough proof of that she felt more comfortable with her own people.

Merry did not say this, because even he knew that it was rude to pry in other people's business. Instead he wrinkled his nose, cleared his throat and tried to think of something to say to break the silence.

"So", he said, the word long on his tongue. "Lovely weather we have, don't you think?"

Privately, he thought of how Pippin would laugh himself silly if he heard Merry ask an elf that question, but Merry's social skills reached it limits when it came down to associate with elves. Talking to his kin was easy; speaking to Men could be amusing and having a conversation with a dwarf had proved to be quite the experience. But he had not yet grasped how to talk to an elf. They made him feel small under their heavy gazes and raised eyebrows, like he was nothing more than a child.

The elf cast him a bewildered look, an eyebrow elegantly arched in a silent question. Merry cleared his throat once more and looked down at the ground below, shuffling his toes against the grass.

"Yes", the elf eventually said.

"Does it ever rain here?" Merry wondered, the question being one he had thought about for some time. "I mean, it's just so bright."

"I suppose it does", the elf smiled kindly. "Sometimes. We elves do not have the powers to control the weather. Nature is a force of its own."

"Oh."

The two of them sat in silence for a while longer, only the sound of rustling leaves and flowing water disturbing the silence. Though when Merry strained his ears, he could hear the soft tune of an elvish song coming from another building and it was a sweet sound, a lullaby.

"Are you worried about the journey you have in front of you?"

Merry looked at the elf, his bright eyes seeking hers who looked back at him with pain and sadness, as well as wisdom and a fierce spark that looked like nothing Merry had ever seen before.

"A bit", he admitted, smiling a half-smile. "There is just so much at stake and so much that can go wrong. The world is so large and we have many miles to cross. Then there's the R…."

He paused, not knowing if he should say more, if he should speak of the cursed Ring or not. It might lure out something dark from wherever it thrives and the last thing they needed would be for the bright and peaceful elven valley to fade.

The elven woman seemed to understand what he was going to say, because her mouth became set in a thin line. Merry supposed that it wasn't strange that she knew about the Ring even though it was the secret of secrets; she spent so many hours with Legolas that she could not have gone unnoticed by the news of the Ring of Power. The two elves had a strong bond, after all, and Merry could imagine them having shared all sorts of different adventures together.

"Then there's the thing that will decide what fate should fall upon us", the elf finished Merry's sentence, her voice low. "I understand your worry, for I have seen what the world and its people are capable of."

She appeared to be sad and tired when she spoke; like she had a heavy weight on her shoulders and that she recalled memories from long ago. Compared to her, Merry felt like he was not anything than a small, so very small creature out in a world that was far too large for him. He nibbled on his lower lip, trying to think of something to say, something to make the elf understand because a voice in the back of his mind whispered that it was important.

"I'd like to think of it as an adventure", explained Merry. "The destination is not what matters, but the journey there and the people you meet on the way."

The elf smiled at the almost dreamy tone of his voice, but it was a sad smile. She shook her head, but none of her hair strands escaped its secure places in its braids.

"It is a nice way to think of it", she said and she sounded so old when she spoke. "But I am afraid that it's not anything more than a fool's hope. Adventures, as you call them, have I heard of and participated in and they are both cruel and exciting things. You can almost never reach your destination without having to lose something on the way."

"I think", Merry said carefully, his eyes deep with thoughts, "that it all depends on the adventure."

"Perhaps you are right, master Brandybuck", the elf admitted, but Merry could see worry in her eyes. "Though I learned long ago that even though a fool's hope is valuable, there are still so much that can go wrong."

"I might be a fool then", said Merry and though the mood was grim, he still managed to smile a crooked smile. "But please tell me of one of your adventures."

"Why would you like to know about them?"

"Well, it would bring me some sort of courage, I think", Merry said slowly and honestly. "To know what to be expected so that I can do the unexpected. Pippin and I are usually quite good at that, you know."

The elf smiled again and it softened her features, making her eyes twinkle in a way Merry had only ever seen Gandalf and old Bilbo's eyes done before. He thought it might be a signature for every adventurer, because had not Aragorn's – Strider's – eyes also held that particular sparkle, though his had been buried deep beneath swirling thoughts of worry.

"The thing about adventures", the elf begun, leaning a bit more onto the balcony railing, "is that they change, depending on who it is that has been through one."

"Oh, I know", Merry assured her, his own eyes shining. "Personally, I think that's one of the more fascinating things with adventures."

The elf didn't answer. She looked out over the valley and Merry thought that she might leave him be, that he somehow had offended her. A few silent minutes went by before the woman turned her head to look at him again. She must had seen something in his face, something that changed her mind, because she suddenly started talking and it was nothing like Merry had heard before.

"I could tell you a great deal about my adventures, though compared to those who lived before me, mine seems very bleak. However, you might not think so."

So she spoke and the words that left her mouth was enchanting, the tone of her voice making him remember all the evenings spent in front of the open fire with his family and friends, listening to stories of old. The elf's voice was like that of fire; warm, yet deadly and in her eyes were shadows that were cast because of the fire's dance. Yet Merry found her voice comforting, even though it was dark; a tiny light in the horizon.

She told him about how she had gone patrolling in the darkest of nights, with barely any company except for shadows and being gone for over a fortnight. Then she told him about fighting spiders, hunting them down with her fellow elves and how the spiders made the forest sick. She spoke of how free she had felt when she had gone on an expedition with Legolas and a couple of other elves; they had reached the peak of the Mountains of Mirkwood and she had stood on the edge and looked out over the whole world. There were also a time when she had seen a dragon and watched a lake burn, an adventure that intertwined with Bilbo's story of his grand adventure. She told Merry how frightened she had been and she described the heat of the flames so detailed and vivid that Merry could almost feel them licking his bare skin. She told him of battles, great and small, and of a darkness that spread over her home. There were also one time when Legolas and she had followed a dark and twisted path that had held death on the other side.

Everything she said, the hobbit desperately and eagerly listened to, drank her words as if they were water. To him, it was stories of adventures, nothing too grim or serious that could hurt him. But Merry could tell when looking at the elf, that to her, it was not stories. Her eyes were nearly black with memories and she really looked hauntingly beautiful, old beyond imagination as she spoke.

"But every adventure has not always been a fearful one, a dangerous and exciting journey", the elf said after a while, her face having a wistful expression. "No, I remember lighter times. My father was a healer, you see, and one of my earliest memories is of walking around the forest with him, searching for herbs and battling imaginary creatures. Then there were times of Legolas and I exploring the castle, trying not to get caught. When thinking about it, is not your whole life a big adventure?"

Merry agreed and nodded vigorously at her words.

"It is", he said, "and as long as you have someone to share it with, it should be fine." Here he paused and peered up at the elf beneath his curly fringe and continued, almost slyly: "I guess that Legolas has always been your constant companion during your adventures?"

If the elf noticed the underlying insinuation, she did not show it. Well, perhaps her lips twitched a little and there might have been a bit more color to her cheeks now, but it could also have been a trick of the light.

"Yes", she answered. "He has followed me wherever he could. Always. But this adventure, I cannot follow him."

She did not seem angry at the thought or sad, just calm as if it was something she held no power over. Though Merry was sure that he didn't imagine the way her eyes shone with a fierce fire when she looked out over the valley.

"I've been on some adventures myself", Merry told her, changing the subject. "Usually, it's Pippin and I 'causing mischief and exploring' as our mothers put it. It is not in any way like Bilbo's adventure with the dwarves, but we've met our fair shares of beasts as well; Farmer Maggot's dogs, the Sackville-Baggins's and the mysterious things of the Old Forest."

For every new thing, he counted them on his fingers and the elf could not help but smile at him.

"That sounds frightening", she said dryly.

"Oh, they are", Merry replied, deadly serious, only being betrayed by the gleam in his eyes. "You have obviously never met Lobelia Sackville-Baggins if you can stand here and laugh about it."

At that, the elf actually let out a small laugh and it was as light and wonderful as the atmosphere of the elven valley. Merry stared and chuckled as well. Then the elf turned grave again.

"The journey you will have in front of you now will be the greatest adventure of them all", she sighed heavily and she looked burdened.

"I think I am in fairly good hands."

"I think so as well", admitted the elven woman, wringing her hands.

"Can one ever be ready for an adventure?" Merry asked her curiously, but rhetorically.

The red-haired elf smiled softly and put a slender hand upon Merry's shoulder. The hobbit nearly jumped at the contact.

"No. I dare say you cannot. That is the difference between a trip and an adventure."

She let go of Merry's shoulder and gave him a nod of her head. He knew that she was about to leave and he didn't feel too sad about it. She must have more important things to do than to talk with a simple hobbit like him.

"It was nice talking to you", said Merry politely, nodding back towards her.

"Likewise", replied the elf after a brief moment of thought.

Merry turned away from her and looked out over the valley, which still looked as beautiful as before and he did not think that that would never change. He was barely aware of the sound of the elf walking away until he could not feel her strong presence anymore around him and he let out a long breath. Merry picked up his pipe again, sighing as the tiny sparks had since long died out. When rummaging through his pockets, he thought about going on an adventure might not be too bad when having so many adventurous people with him. After all, Legolas could not be any less than an adventurer when he had spent years together with his red-haired female friend. She was like adventure personified, sculpted into an elf's body.

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**So, that was Merry. Feel free to leave a review on your thoughts of the chapter! **

**I will try not to take such a long time to update the next chapter, promise! **


	6. Aragorn and the Friend

**Chapter 6 everyone! **

**Yeah, this chapter is late as well, but it was a bit tricky to write and I've been busy this week, but here it is. Hope you'll like it! **

**Thanks to all readers, followers, favourites and reviewers (already over 50 reviews; that's amazing)! I really enjoy reading your suggestions and hear your opinions!  
**

**I do not own any characters or places; J.R.R Tolkien or Peter Jackson and Co do. In this chapter, there will be some references to _Lord of the Rings: the Fellowship of the Ring - extended edition _and _Th_e _Lord of the Rings; the Two Towers_. Nothing too important, but it could be useful to know. **

_Flashbacks and elvish are in italics._

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 6: Aragorn and the Friend**

It was dark and Aragorn was nothing more than a shadow, years of practicing survival out in the wild making it an easy feat to blend in where he wanted to. He was sitting with his head bent down, resting his head in his hands and letting the cold, stone eyes of his mother's statue judge him.

The statue, made by the most skilled elven sculptures, was lovely, but not even they had managed to capture the warmth Gilraen had possessed when she was alive, nor the troubled frown that had graced her brows or the small smile she always had reserved for her son. No. The elves knew nothing of those things, but had made the sculpture of white stone, only portraying Gilraen's cold beauty. Aragorn thought that was sad, because it meant that no one would remember his mother like he would.

Aragorn looked up, his eyes fixed upon the sky and pleading for an answer, something, to lift what felt like a heavy burden from his shoulders and heart.

Lord Elrond's words still rang in his ear, the man that had raised him and been like the father he had never known. It was words of a cold sadness, of age and responsibility. Aragorn sighed; thinking about what cruel, higher power there was that had laid this burden, this power, upon him.

The sky was void of any stars and he unclasped the necklace he wore and held it carefully in his hand, afraid that he would break it.

It was a beautiful thing, bright and shimmering. It was a creation of white, silver and sparkling stones that seemed to have hidden rainbows deep within. The necklace was as beautiful and delicate as its previous owner. Aragorn could not stop his heart from clenching painfully at the thoughts of Arwen, his heart and soul in this world.

He would have to leave her behind now and this time, it might be forever, not just some mindless wandering all over Middle Earth, but for real this time. The man sighed once more.

The Ring of Power…. Aragorn shifted nervously on the spot, the mere thought of the golden trinket sending an ice-cold fear through his veins. That was their task during this quest: to protect the Ring and its bearer. He had sworn to do it and he had meant it then. He still did, for he was a man of his word, but now, as darkness had fallen; treacherous thoughts began to creep up on him.

His ancestor had fallen for the power of that golden Ring, had been bewitched and the Ring had made Isildur's remaining days dark. What was to say that it would not happen to him as well? Isildur's blood flowed in his veins and he was nothing more than a mere Man. They were so easy to corrupt and Aragorn was scared, so frightened, that he would fall for the Ring's power and take it, instead of protecting it as he had promised.

Aragorn closed his eyes, wishing that his mother would be there in flesh and not sculptured. She would have known what to do, what to say to make the darkness and doubts go away.

"_Ma ná prestalle _", he heard a soft voice whisper behind him, as soft as a trick of his mind. "_Mani?_"

He didn't turn around. He didn't need to wait long before someone was kneeling beside him, watching his mother's statue as well. It was an elf with red hair and lively eyes that were dull and respectful now. Her face was like that of all elves; fair and ageless. Aragorn knew her, but he could not bring himself to answer her. He might know her, but it was usually Legolas that he spoke to.

The elven woman did not seem bothered by his silence, her face pale in the darkness that surrounded them as did towering bushes and trees.

"_Ya naa re_?" the elf asked, her hands clasped in her lap as if to prevent them from reaching out to touch the statue.

Aragorn did if for her. He raised his left hand and brushed it over the statue's face. The stone was cold against his rough skin.

"_Naneth_", he replied and his voice was a mere whisper of sadness.

The elf glanced at him and her eyes were nearly black. They held wisdom and compassion. She carefully touched the runes, the inscription that was engraved at the statue's feet: _Onen i-Estel Edain, ú-chebin estel anim. _Her expression became even more melancholic after reading that and Aragorn looked away, finding it hard to look at her.

"She was beautiful", said the elf and her voice was honest.

Was. The word left a bitter taste in the air and Aragorn smiled a half-smile, blue eyes dimmed with memories.

"She was not like this", he said, words coming spilling out. "They've made her too cold. She never appeared like this. Not to me."

"They made her as they saw her", the elf explained quietly. "Nothing more or less. That is what we do."

Aragorn could only acknowledge that with a slight bow of his head. After having grown up with elves, he knew them better than most Men, but still not enough to claim to know them perfectly. He had known since a young age that he was not one of them, no matter how much his heart had ached, wishing it to be untrue. There were still times when he wished that, because it felt that a lot of his problems would be solved, had he not been who he was.

"But it is not that that bothers you", the elf continued, watching him carefully with eyes like a hawk. "Your mother has been dead for a while, hasn't she?" Immediately she paled. "Forgive me. I did not mean to sound so disrespectful."

"No offense taken", Aragorn assured. "It has been a long time since she passed."

They sat in silence for a little while longer, the silence being so calm that it appeared loud as if many different sounds had been blended together. The red-haired elf was the one that broke the silence and Aragorn didn't know if it gladdened him or not.

"It is the journey ahead that burdens your mind, isn't it? You are not the only one."

"But none of them descend from Isildur", Aragorn said with anguish in his voice and pain in his eyes. "None of them have that weakness and the knowledge that it was your family line that could've stopped this once and for all, but failed. It is my burden to bear. My shame."

"You are not Isildur, but his heir", the elf said calmly and the words got him to remember Arwen saying the same. "You know that. You are stronger than you think. There is a power in you that can make up for whatever wrongdoing your kin might have done in the past. Even though that power will come with sacrifices, it's still yours to use and make a change."

"I told Lord Elrond that I never wished for that power", whispered Aragorn and looked up at his mother's face, recalling simpler times.

Beside him, the elf didn't move and she could have been a statue herself.

"Life is seldom fair", the elf spoke wisely and her tone was cold. "Instead of despairing, turn it into something good, something of your own choice."

Aragorn smiled humorlessly, fighting down a bitter chuckle which would not be appropriate to utter in the silence of his mother's grave.

"This journey of ours will be at the mercy of others. Every action will be another's doing. We will not have the freedom to make our own choices."

"Perhaps", the elf said. "And perhaps not. One can always make a choice, but no matter what choice one makes it will not manage to please the whole world."

She stared intensely at him and Aragorn found himself clutching the necklace in his hand tighter, but so that it would break. He could not bear it breaking. The elf's eyes travelled down to his clenched hand.

"You are planning on leaving her", she said and her words cut sharply through the mild night air.

"I am going on a journey", Aragorn pointed out. "An uncertain one that will require leaving her behind."

The elf snorted and her eyes suddenly blazed with a dangerous fire. Aragorn stared back with determination, his posture stiff.

"I do not mean for this journey only, but for the rest of time!"

"I have to…. It will be for the best…."

The red-haired woman let out a sigh of despair and looked at him with badly hidden misery.

"Is that what you think?" she asked him. "Do you think Lady Arwen will agree?"

A shadow crossed the ranger's face. He wanted to shout, he wanted to cry out in anger and despair. It tore at his heart, leaving it bleeding and wounded to almost beyond repair. If he could have chosen differently, he would have stayed in Rivendell with Arwen until the end, but that had never been an option.

The eyes of his mother looked down at him and they knew that he wasn't selfish. He would always put others first; he was restless, hunted, he could not stop himself from wandering the world, trying to seek an answer he did not know the question to.

"_Mani ná han_?" the elf asked and Aragorn should not have been surprised that she had managed to spot Arwen's Evenstar in his hand.

He opened his hand and he heard the elf drew a quick breath as her gaze fell upon the necklace.

"Beautiful", she whispered breathlessly. "I never thought that I would see it up close. The brightest star of them all…." She gazed a while longer at the piece of jewelry, before composing herself. She turned her gaze towards Aragorn. "An exquisite gift to give away and a rare gift to receive."

Aragorn stayed quiet and the elf sighed beside him.

"What happened that made you afraid and so indifferent?"

"What do you mean?" he asked quickly. "This quest will be an uncertain mission, one no one knows the end of. It will bring me peace to know that Arwen is safe with her kin."

"Do you think she will see it that way? Sailing into the West makes this world only a memory, no matter how sweet, it's still a memory."

A memory. Aragorn had told Lord Elrond so, had told him that in Valinor, Arwen's love for him might have been able to bloom forever, but it would still be a memory. Aragorn would never sail to the West. When his time would come to an end he would be buried in the earth. For he was mortal and Arwen was not and it frightened that she would be willing to give up her immortality to live one lifetime with him, a lifetime that now only looked dark.

"Why did you come here?" he spoke up, remembering the red-haired elf next to him.

"I wanted to speak with you of the journey", she answered quietly. "Though it does not seem as if that is the only thing on your mind. I thought you could need some advice."

Aragorn couldn't prevent the smile that escaped his lips, though the shadows from the tall trees made his expression look twisted and wicked upon his face.

"Advice…."

"Yes", the elf replied, though there was no humor visible in her eyes. "Advice from someone who knows what it's like to love someone you cannot have."

Those words made his smile vanish and Aragorn did not know what to say. He put the necklace in his pocket, not daring to wear it as if he could feel the judgmental eyes of the elves upon him already.

"We are different", he said. "Both you and Legolas are elves, whereas I am mortal and nothing will change that."

"If Lady Arwen loves you, and you love her, it should not matter that you are from two difference races." She paused and then looked at him for a long while, her eyes as hard as diamonds, and when she spoke; her voice was strangely soft compared to her expression: "After all, everything has a solution."

He snorted.

"That is wishful thinking. I am afraid that this time there is no solution. Well", he added as the elf gave her a look that told him that she could sense his little lie. "At least not a solution that will please all parts."

_ "__I choose a mortal life." _

_ "__I will not leave my daughter here to die." _

As if reading what was on the ranger's mind, the elf surprised him when she let out a short laugh. It wasn't a happy one and it wasn't proper. It echoed strangely around the clearing and Aragorn half-expected it to wake the dead. He looked at her and all bitter humor vanished from her face as quickly as they had appeared.

"No solution can always make everyone involved happy", she said wisely, looking up at the sky. "And when it comes to the matter of the heart, fathers seem to be the most hesitant to find a solution that will please their children." She looked thoughtful. "I guess that being a parent can make you too protective of your children that you sometimes forget that they also have a heart that loves others as well."

"You speak as if you have experience with such fathers", Aragorn pointed out and recalled a tall, blond elven king with frosty eyes whom he had only met once.

She smiled fleetingly and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Haven't you?" she countered and Aragorn's thoughts wandered to Lord Elrond, who had always been kind to him, but when it was about his daughter, turned to a stranger. Love really could change a person.

"What should I do then, my friend?" Aragorn asked her and his blue eyes were clouded with a pain that was not physical.

"You shall follow the fellowship and protect the Ring bearer", she told him and her voice was almost hypnotizing to listen to. "You shall do what needs to be done to protect this world. Succeed, and it will be the beginning of a new era. Embrace your destiny. Help keep the world peaceful, keep it light and beautiful, a world worthy of your children to live in."

It was a beautiful picture she painted in his mind. He saw for his inner eye a healthy world, a world full of light and laughter. He saw rivers flow through green lands, now looking like ribbons of silver and not sly snakes; saw healthy trees sway in the wind, a sea of emerald leaves beneath the brightest of skies; a world that was no longer dark and Frodo, free from the Ring, with his eyes shining instead of being shadowed. Then, Arwen appeared and she was smiling. Even though Aragorn knew that this was only an illusion, a dream, he couldn't help but try to move closer to her. She was dressed in white, her long dark hair flowing down her back, and she seemed to glow. Behind her, a white tree was blooming and it was a sight that made his heart beat louder.

It was a good dream.

Suddenly, he watched as the tree caught fire and he shielded his eyes from the intense light. In the distance, he thought he could see a burning, red eye, surrounded by flames of gold, looking very much like the One Ring. He closed his eyes and tried once more to imagine Arwen and the bright, pale light that seemed to surround her. When he succeeded, he tried to open his eyes and the magic was broken and he shook his head at the fantasy, once again being reminded by the looming shadows all around him. He was sitting at his mother's grave, the sky slowly turning a dark blue instead of an inky black, and the woman next to him was an elf, but not Arwen. Aragorn looked at her, the feeling of magic still prickling his skin.

"You forget", said Aragorn and threw open his arms, gesturing. "That I am just a mortal Man."

"No, _mellonamin_", said the elf quietly, rising to her feet with grace. "You are more than that."

She placed a slender hand upon his shoulder, squeezing it softly and it was as if he got to feel her vulnerably and confidence in him with just that friendly squeeze. Then she disappeared, leaving him with his thoughts. A few stars had come out to play, sparkling high above him like diamonds. Watching them, he realized that even when the world was dark, there would always be glimpses of light watching over him, loving him at a distance, and that gave him a feeling of hope.

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_Ma ná prestalle. Mani? - _Something is disturbing you. What?

_Ya naa re? - _Who is she?

_Naneth - _My mother

___Onen i-Estel Edain, ú-chebin estel anim_ - 'I gave Hope to the Dúndedain, I have kept no hope for myself'_  
_

_Mani ná han? - _What is that?

_Mellonamin - _My friend

**That was Aragorn. I find him to be a rather difficult character to write, him having a different burden than Frodo and all that responsibility, being the rock for the whole fellowship, yet having no one that can really understand what's going on in his mind and him and Arwen having to fight for their love... it's just sad, but he is an extremely interesting character, in my opinion.  
**

**Thanks for reading and feel free to leave a review on your opinion, if it's about the chapter or Aragorn in general; I'm all ears (eyes). **


	7. Frodo and the Memory

**Chapter 7 everyone! **

**I know, this chapter is late. Very late. But I've been really busy this past week and my computer is not really all what he used to be, poor thing, so I've had some trouble with him as well. But fear not; now I'm back with a nice, long chapter about our last curly-haired hobbit in this story! **

**Thanks to all readers, followers, favourites and reviewers! It made me very happy to hear that people thought my portrayal of Aragorn was okay and that they like the story in general! **

**I do not own any characters or places; J.R.R Tolkien or Peter Jackson and Co do. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 7: Frodo and the Memory**

The Ring was cool against his chest and that was how Frodo always was reminded that it was there. It felt odd to have it around his neck now, when he had learned to keep it hidden and safe, put away in a box or hidden in his pocket. He might have imagined that the Ring seemed heavier now, that he was more aware of it now when it was dangling around his neck, looking innocent on its silver chain.

Frodo resisted the slight urge to reach inside of his shirt to finger on the Ring or to tear it off, away from him. He knew that he could not do to any of it. The young hobbit sighed and continued to walk forlornly through the valley.

Rivendell was truly like a place in a fairytale. Frodo found it to be peaceful, a different kind of world than the Shire. Everything was more magical, but Frodo thought he could have appreciated the beauty of it more had it not been for the scar he had gained from the Ring Wraith and the Ring around his neck, seeming to whisper to him.

The stone felt oddly soft against the soles of his feet as he walked down a path from one building to another. The sun was shining, coloring the leaves on the trees gold. It looked like fire or terribly like the color of the trinket he had offered to carry to Mordor to destroy.

"Mordor", he whispered, pausing in mid-step.

A slight gush of wind swept through the valley, catching the word and carrying it away, leaving Frodo standing scared and alone on the path. He could feel the Ring against his chest and it called to him, a weak whisper, words in a dark language Frodo didn't understand. It was as if by saying the name of the land where Sauron dwelt, the Ring begged to be taken there. Gandalf had said that the Ring had a mind of its own and Frodo was sure that he could feel its malice and its glee over that their quest would fail. The Ring was certain that it would. It thought it could corrupt them all, one by one. But Frodo was deemed set not to let that happen; as long as he could still think for himself, he was safe.

He had managed to sneak away from Sam, Merry, Pippin and Gandalf with the excuse of that he wanted to visit Bilbo. It wasn't a lie; he felt that Bilbo would be the only one to understand, him having been in the possession of the Ring for years. He also wanted to spend some time with his old uncle whom he had not seen for a long time. He would travel with his friends and companions for a long time forth – 'unless they weren't killed first', whispered a traitorous voice in his head which Frodo feared he knew the owner of – but it was uncertain if he would ever meet Bilbo again. Bilbo was old and Frodo's adventure would be dangerous.

The black-haired hobbit started to walk again, feeling somewhat at peace when hearing the water sing and the birds' music. It soothed his soul and lured out a small smile. His wide, blue eyes took it all in and for a moment, he could even forget about the Ring.

The path took a turn to the right, disappearing behind a sharp hill. Frodo followed it and walked up the stairs that led him closer to his uncle's quarters. Then he followed another path and he waved carefully to two dark-haired elves that were sitting by a fountain he passed. They were playing on golden harps and the tunes that sprung from the strings were sad, but hauntingly beautiful. The song seemed to match their expressions.

Bilbo had his new home in a building with a nice view over the valley, accompanied by the smallest of gardens that only served its purpose by having colorful flowers and being a reminder of the Shire.

Frodo was about to enter the building, but something caught his attention. It was a flick of red in the corner of his eye. Curious, he followed the half-circular path around the garden instead and stopped outside the high, narrow windows. He hid in the shadows of a tree and looked inside the room with an inquisitive look in his eyes.

Bilbo was sitting on a couch, dressed in his smartly clothes that were fit for a hobbit in his status, but the clothes were light and pale, no earthy colors that were usual amongst hobbits. It was as if the clothes were fading away, just like their owner. Frodo had never known Bilbo to be this frail and old as he was now. His hair was white and his face wrinkled. He appeared to be shorter as well and when he was sitting down, his back was slightly hunched.

Sitting in front of the old hobbit was an elf. Frodo recalled her to be a companion to Legolas that had arrived from Mirkwood. She was easy to recognize because of her red hair that flowed over her shoulders. Now, her beautiful features were set in a soft expression as she was talking to Bilbo, though sometimes she furrowed her brows or had the expression of someone that had experienced a lot during a long time, with scars that were not of flesh, but were deep set in the mind.

Frodo couldn't hear what they were saying and he didn't move closer so he would hear them. He had too much respect for his uncle to do that and he had early learned that one did not eavesdrop, especially not on Bilbo Baggins. There was no guarantee of what one might hear.

Frodo didn't know how long he stood beneath the tree and watched the two different beings converse in quiet tones. They looked like quite the pair where they sat. The elf was tall, even when sitting, and her hair gave her whole appearance a certain glow of life. Next to her, Bilbo looked even smaller than usual and much more old and washed-out.

Without really knowing it, Frodo wondered if he would ever end up like Bilbo; living alone and growing old, only caring about his books, his former adventures and one or two relatives. The thought made him frown. A small voice, like a slimy worm, ran through his head. It whispered that he would be lucky to survive to be old, that the chances of him doing so were very slim. Frodo shook his head, getting curls in his eyes and made the voice go away. So far, it was easy to ignore that voice, that traitorous whisper, but Frodo wondered how long that would last.

Having been so caught up in his gloomy and worried thoughts, Frodo did not notice the elf standing up to leave after pressing Bilbo's hands in hers with a haunted look in her eyes and a small smile which Bilbo mirrored. When the young hobbit realized that the elf was gone, he looked around the garden and contemplated if he should visit Bilbo immediately or wait a few more minutes so that the older hobbit could get a few moments to prepare himself for the next visit. The last thing Frodo wanted was to tire out his uncle with his presence.

"How long have you been standing here, Ring-bearer?" asked a soft, deep and pleasant female voice from behind him.

Frodo turned around, surprised when he saw the red-haired elf entering the shadows of the tree. Her hair, he realized, was in the same color as the autumn leaves on the trees.

"A while", he answered her question and his voice was quiet, hesitant. "I didn't hear any of you conversation", he added when the woman looked as if she wanted him to elaborate.

"It would not have mattered. We spoke in the tongue of my people, but perhaps you are familiar with it?"

The elf looked at him expectedly, her eyes betraying nothing except a swirl of earthy colors. Frodo nodded, thinking back on all the times he had spent with Bilbo leaning over old scrolls in Sindarin that Bilbo had acquired on his travels or simply translated himself. Frodo did not know if his uncle had been taught it or if he had taught himself. It wouldn't have surprised Frodo if he had, because Bilbo was stubborn.

"I know some of it", Frodo confessed. "Though my interest have never been as great as Bilbo's."

"Well", the elf said. "Master Baggins is an extraordinary person." She tilted her head to the right and watched Frodo with a smile on her lips and thoughtful green eyes. "And it seems as if that trait runs in the family."

Frodo ducked his head and fought down a blush.

"There's nothing special about me", he mumbled, peeking up at her from beneath his fringe. "I'm just a hobbit from the Shire."

"A hobbit that will carry a burden that others did not dare to take." The elf's voice was full of respect mixed with a tinge of wonder. "So I disagree. I think that there is something special about you."

Frodo remained quiet, thinking. The elf didn't push him for an answer. She came to stand next to him and surprised him when she sat down on the ground, her back resting against the tree trunk and her eyelids closing over her eyes. Frodo frowned, unsure if he should sit down as well. He decided to do it, because there was a peaceful air about the elf where she sat and Frodo thought that he could do with some peace right now.

He sat down and leaned back against the tree. He wondered if it truly was buzzing with life or if he just imagined it. The hobbit tried not to move; because that would mean touching the elven woman's arm and that wasn't something he was comfortable with. All elves had the aura and appearance in their eyes of not being real, of being indestructible and reaching out to touch them, only briefly, would destroy that picture.

It felt nice sitting down and if he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend that he was back home, sitting in Eastfarthing woods reading a book. He didn't think that he would be back there for a long, long time if ever.

"It is nice, don't you think?" the elf asked him, sounding content. "To relax and open your mind to the lives in the nature around you. It makes you aware of that you are not alone."

"Yes", said Frodo, his eyes fluttering as if not wanting to wake up from a dream. "Perhaps you are right. But why do I feel as if a hole in my heart has started to appear? A little black crack that infects me with doubt and worry."

"Doubting is easy should one forget to hope", said the elf wisely and her voice was soothing. "All of us carries different burdens, but yours is one that no one knows how to advice you on. The War of the Last Alliance was before my time and such dark magic as the Ring is not my forte."

Frodo sighed. The Ring seemed to have become heavier during his conversation with the red-haired elf. When a slender hand came to rest upon his shoulder, the contact made him open his eyes and he looked at the elf with helplessness and doubt reflecting in his eyes. Her expression was calm, but her eyes were pools of energy and wisdom and they alone reassured Frodo that everything would be fine.

"I may not know anything about the Ring and its ways, but I know this; do not give up. As long as you still have the spirit to go on, everything is not lost. Remember that, Ring-bearer."

She looked serious when she spoke, but her hand on his shoulder was a promise of strength. The hobbit could feel power radiating from it, magic buzzing beneath her creamy skin. It was as if he was drowned in sunshine and gold; it made him relaxed and somehow, he felt stronger, both in body and soul.

"Thank you", he said and hoped that she would understand.

"You're welcome", she smiled to him and she really looked beautiful when she smiled.

Then her smile vanished and she looked hesitant, torn between something. Frodo looked at her with a worried wrinkle between his eyebrows.

"What is it?"

The elf lowered her eyes to the ground. Her hand fell from Frodo's shoulder and her fingers sought refuge in the grass. She looked as if he was fighting an inner struggle.

"I was wondering", she began, but paused, letting out a weak chuckle. Frodo got the impression that she was laughing at herself. The elf fixed her eyes on Frodo's pale face. "Do you think that I could see it? Just once."

There was no question what it was she wanted to see. Something stirred inside of Frodo and he raised one hand to his chest with the feeling of hiding the Ring, protecting it. The elf looked regretful, ashamed and bowed her head.

"Forgive me", she said quietly. "I should not have asked. I merely wanted to see the trinket that will send away people I care about on a dangerous quest and to see the small thing that could change the world forever."

She spoke with honesty and Frodo gradually relaxed, thinking that she had shown him nothing but kindness and made him feel peaceful for the first time in a while. He unbuttoned three buttons of his shirt and he was sure that the elf would be able to glimpse the golden Ring that hung around his neck. He didn't want to remove the chain; it felt as if it was a foolish thing to do.

Something ignited in the depths of the elf's eyes and Frodo instinctively buttoned his shirt again, certain that she now had seen the Ring. The elf looked to be deep in thought, but eventually, she smiled again.

"_Diola lle, Cormacolindor_", she said gravely.

Frodo only nodded and tried to smile. The leaves above them rustled as a gust of wind blew in over the valley. Rivendell truly was a magical place. Still feeling calm and happy, Frodo remembered the original reason of why he was there. He glanced at the windows of the elegant building nearby and saw his uncle sitting in a chair, turning pages in a book. He turned back to the elf.

"I should go", he told her. "Before it's too late. I'm fairly certain that Bilbo would like to know what has happened during these past days. I have not been able to visit him."

"I understand", the elf said, but she made no indication to get up. "Family is important."

Frodo nodded mutely and stood up. Before he could form a proper goodbye, the elf reached out with a quick movement and grasped Frodo's hand with her own. Her skin was soft and Frodo's own skin tingled at the contact, as if the elf was giving him some of her own strength and power. Her face was solemn as she looked at him.

"_Quel marth_, Frodo Baggins", she said. "May you succeed where others did not."

Frodo looked at her with surprise and gratefulness. The words stuck in his throat, but the elf didn't seem to mind. She let go of his hand, gave him one last smile, before leaning back against the tree, closing her eyes and sitting as still as a statue that no Men could ever had created.

Frodo tried not to make a sound when he started to walk down the path that would lead to the entrance. It wasn't difficult, because hobbits were light on their feet and expert on passing unnoticed if they wanted to.

The building that Bilbo lived in was as elegant and open as the other houses of Rivendell. It had a certain charm to it and it was a sight to behold for someone that had only ever lived in a hobbit-hole before, no matter how cozy and homely it had been.

Frodo went inside, knocking ever so slightly on the wall as he passed the threshold. Bilbo had now been wandering around the room, opening coffins and drawers, muttering to himself. When he saw his nephew entering, his old face lit up in a bright smile.

"Ah, Frodo, my lad", Bilbo said, stuffing away some scrolls in a drawer and went to meet the young hobbit. "I didn't know if you would visit so soon."

"Of course I would", Frodo hurried to say, meaning every word. "I was here earlier, but I noticed that you had company and I didn't want to interrupt."

Bilbo's alert eyes followed Frodo's and he smiled thinly as they watched the elf rise from her place underneath the tree.

"That was kind of you, but I don't think that she would've minded."

"Who is she?" Frodo asked, his gaze following the red-haired elf as she walked down the path outside the windows.

Bilbo smiled sadly and shook his head, patting the cover of his leather-bound book.

"She is someone I met before in what feels like another life", the old hobbit said melancholically. "I admired her, because she was strong and fiery, yet gentle and caring. So I wouldn't forget her, I wrote her down in my book amongst my adventure."

Bilbo trailed off, lost in thought. It was almost as if Frodo could see in his eyes the flames of dragon fire, the faint blue glow of a sword and a rain of arrows falling from a black sky. If he would have looked past Bilbo's dark thoughts, he would have caught a glimpse of a merry company of dwarves throwing dishes around, a large man with a booming laugh saying 'little bunny' and a tall, fair-haired elf with frosty eyes, followed by a ragged-looking Man clinging to a bow as if it was his salvation.

"But who is she?" Frodo repeated, blue eyes not as dark anymore, but filled with admiration and curiosity.

"She is nothing but a memory now, my dear boy", said Bilbo and he sounded tired. "The world is changing, but she will always remain a memory."

Frodo had nothing to say to that. He looked thoughtful as he continued to stare out of the windows, though the elf was since long gone. To his uncle, she was nothing but a memory and Frodo feared that it was all she was going to be for him as well.

But she would be a good memory, a bright flame in the upcoming darkness.

* * *

_Diola lle, Cormacolindor - _Thank you, Ring-bearer

_Quel marth - _Good luck

**So, how about that? Did I portray Frodo alright? And what about Tauriel? Feel free to leave a review; I really enjoy to read you opinions! **

**Until next time (though I can't promise when that will be) and thanks for reading! **


	8. Gandalf and the Captain

**Chapter 8 everyone, after a long wait! **

**Yes, this chapter's even more late than the previous one, but I've been on vacation for a week without having any access to a computer, so that put a stop to my writing, unfortunately. But I'm back now! **

**Thanks to all readers, followers, favourites and reviewers! Your kind words really encourage me to write more, is a joy to read and it makes me so happy that you enjoy the story! :)  
**

**I do not own any characters or places; J.R.R Tolkien or Peter Jackson and Co do. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 8: Gandalf and the Captain **

Smoke was flying around Gandalf's head, but he paid little mind to it and continued to stare ahead of him, his old eyes seeing things that were not there. Things had taken a very interesting turn, to say at least, but Gandalf wondered if it was the right turn. The wizard let out another puff of smoke and it galloped with the wind away from him, appearing like a dim ribbon of silver in the night air.

The Ring had gotten to Rivendell safe, but to a great cost. Gandalf still got chills from thinking on how close Frodo – and the other hobbits – had been to death. He closed his eyes and sighed. When and how, _how_, could everything have gotten so out of hand, so wrong?

The old man sighed again and looked out over the dark valley, small shimmering lanterns lightening up the dark like fireflies. The soft sound of the running streams and the crickets were like a lullaby and whatever magic that seared through the valley was soothing for the wizard's soul and nerves. He had lived many years, walked this world for as long as he could remember. Yet Rivendell – Imladris – had always had a calming effect on him; that was one of the places where he felt closer to the world's creators.

Gandalf blew out some more smoke, thinking of times of old and of his mission. Protect the world, look after it, and guide its people. That was what he had been told. He could only vaguely recall his time in the West, but it had been different from the life he was now living.

He would not change it for anything.

Gandalf had come to love this world and cherish its people. And he would not rest until the Evil was defeated once more.

He coughed as the smoke got caught in his throat, his eyes going a bit teary. Thinking of a past life made him remember his four companions that were sent to Middle Earth with him. He had not seen any of the Blue Wizards' for ages, and their faces were almost forgotten to him. That saddened him. Radagast the Brown was not the man he once had been; his mind having lost its brilliance and power that had been given to the Istari. Then there was Saruman the White….

Gandalf frowned and did not let his thoughts wander down that path. His old friend's betrayal was still fresh and it hurt.

He let his thoughts stray to the quest at hand instead and to a brave little hobbit. It made him feel grief and guilt that Frodo were to carry such an important burden upon his shoulders, but at the same time, a small flame of hope burned in his chest. Gandalf thought that their chance to win was still possible.

"Mithrandir."

The word was spoken by a soft, female voice as cool as the night's air. Gandalf didn't turn around, but nodded his head as the red-haired elf joined him on the terrace. A small smile was playing behind his beard.

"Captain", he acknowledged her and let out yet another puff of smoke.

The smoke was in the same color as his robes and formed itself into a dragon in miniature, a dragon both of them were familiar with. It spread its smoky wings and flew away into the night. The elf's green eyes glittered with a bitter memory as she watched the magical creature disappear.

"Fascinating", she breathed and Gandalf smiled kindly at her.

"Would you like to try?" he asked and offered her his pipe.

The elf looked at the long, wooden pipe critically, before declining politely. Gandalf shrugged and put it back in one of his many pockets.

"That's a shame", he said, though his pale, blue eyes twinkled. "I've always found that smoking helps clearing my head and organize my thoughts."

The elf let out a soft sound that could have been a snort had she not been an elf. Yet her eyes had the same teasing spark as they rested upon the old man.

"Are you suggesting that I have a lot on my mind?" she wondered, raising one eyebrow.

"I wouldn't say 'a lot' ", answered Gandalf. "Just something that troubles you, that won't go away."

The elf nodded, her expression quickly turning serious.

"You are right", she admitted. "Troubling thoughts have appeared the closer to the day when all of you shall leave approaches."

"I dare say that you are not the only one."

"Probably not."

They sat in silence for a while. The elf seemed uncertain, weighing her words carefully in her mind as if she was trying them out. Gandalf did not hurry her, but he also wasn't the one to speak first. He would let her do that. He was patient and the night was still young.

Eventually, the elf stopped her inner struggle.

"I came to ask if I could join you", she said straight to the point and looked at him seriously.

Gandalf only raised his eyebrows.

"On your mission", the elf clarified.

He should not feel surprised so he did not. After all, he had expected a conversation of this kind to take place sooner or later. Now it was all about how to respond.

"Why did you come to me with this request, hm?" he asked her, peering at her from beneath his bushy eyebrows. "What makes you think that I could help, that I could decide that?"

The elf smiled at his attempt to play innocent and the dark of the night casted shadows upon her fair face, which made it look twisted when she smiled.

"Because", she said. "Even though this quest was assigned to you by a Lord and even though the fellowship contains a king, a prince and a nobleman, you, Mithrandir, stand above them all."

Gandalf could feel his lips twitch reluctantly. She was clever, but he had not expected anything less. Not from her.

"And could you tell me why, Captain, you have this sudden desire to join us on our journey? Most would deem it a suicide mission."

"Which is why I want to come", she told him and her eyes gleamed dangerously in the dark. "I do not fear death for myself, but I fear for others. The fate of the world lies upon this quest to succeed, which means that you will need protection of all kinds." She glanced down at her hands, before meeting Gandalf's eyes again. "I offer you my services."

Gandalf let out a long sigh.

"Oh, my dear girl…."

He did not know what to say or how he would say it. The wizard was not blind to what her presence on their journey would give. She was a fine fighter – one of Mirkwood's best – and she possessed certain skills in healing. Her loyalty was unbending and Gandalf thought that that would be the problem should she come with them.

Gandalf knew that she was loyal to Legolas – one must be blind not to see what was going on between the two of them; or have to have lived a long time so that one had seen it all – and he wondered if that was not the reason to why she wanted to come. To protect her prince as was protocol and to protect someone she cared about. Now, the thing was that during a vital mission like this, it was not about protecting and dying for friends or lovers; it was about protecting and dying for the Ring and its bearer.

"Tell me", Gandalf said and turned so he was sitting facing her. "Tell me the truth. Do you not want to come just so you can protect your prince and friend?"

She looked at him with pursed lips and a fire in her eyes that made every rumor about Wood Elves not being as wise as the rest of their kin, but more dangerous, true. Yet Gandalf had seen too much to properly be afraid.

"Please, do not insult me", the elf said and her brows were knitted together in frustration. "I know that this quest is bigger than any person, that it is a matter of great importance. This mission will decide the fate of our world. A hobbit will decide the fate of our world. He will need protection. The others of your group are the protection and I offer to be it as well, to do one last tribute to the world."

Gandalf only looked at her, thinking of how young she was to underestimate herself and to so willingly cast away her own existence as less important. Some of his sadness must've shown on his face, because the elf's face softened and she smiled a smile of a long time of hardship.

"You say that I want to come to protect my friend, but that is what you are doing as well, is it not, Mithrandir?"

Gandalf didn't answer. He was not a fool to argue with an elf. He tried to look as if her words did not get to him.

"Yes", the elf mused. "You are not only on this quest because of your power and wisdom and for the sake of the world. No. A part of you is only coming because you want to protect a dear friend." She let out a swift laugh that was cutting. "Isn't it strange how little one care about the world and its people at all, when you only want to protect the ones you care about?"

"You don't mean that", said Gandalf in a low voice, looking at her with eyes that were both like ice and fire at the same time.

"No", sighed the elven woman, though she did not sound too sure. "I guess I don't. Not completely, but all of us are selfish. We try not to be, but we were created with a streak of selfishness."

"Yes", Gandalf agreed. "But one can choose if to act on it."

"I do not find myself to be selfish, but I care for Legolas and I do care for the world, because it has given us so much as has its people. It is impossible not to be affected of the darkness that has started to spread, that has been lurking around our home for decades. It must be stopped and I ask of you again; please, let me come with you to try and protect our world."

Gandalf suddenly were on his feet. The elf seemed surprised.

"Come walk with me, Captain", he begged her.

A small wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows, but she obeyed. Gandalf gestured at her to go first down the narrow staircase, his long, grey sleeve hanging from his arm like a shadow. The elf nodded curtly as a thank you at the gesture and descended the stairs. Gandalf followed her.

They went downstairs and walked through the high vaults, through the quiet room and out down a pebbled path, their towering figures casting long shadows behind them. Rivendell was beautiful during the night; it was as if walking through a dream, not really knowing where the line of reality and imagination was.

"It is a wondrous place, do you not think so?" asked Gandalf conversationally as they made their way in a slow pace.

"It is calm and comforting. It's different from home." She smiled softly, a quick flash of white teeth glimmering in the dark. "It's strange…. Almost as if there is something that keeps evil at bay, something we do not know about."

"That's one way to see it", Gandalf agreed, his eyes lingering on a swarm of blue butterflies that emerged from the bushes. "But fear will eventually appear and grab this valley in its ugly clutches."

"Fear is already here, in a sense."

The words had barely left the elf's lips when Gandalf stopped. There were lines, wrinkles, marks of age and sadness written all over his face. It was as if they appeared as by magic and the elf was close to flinching. There was not the powerful wizard that stood next to her now nor was it the image of a merry old man. She seemed at loss for words and Gandalf did not blame her, the young elven Captain, for he did not truly know what to make of himself either.

"No", he said to the elf's previous words. "Fear has not yet entered here."

His voice left a thick, dark tension around them. Gandalf knew he was right when he said that fear hadn't come to Rivendell. What was managing to sneak through the magical atmosphere of Rivendell was not fear, but worry and doubt that slowly started to poison everything within its reach.

The old wizard could not expect the elf to know the difference. Old may she be in the years of Men, but she was young in the years of the world. She had fought battles, Gandalf knew this as he had been with her fighting years ago, but he didn't think that she could've known true fear.

Darkness had started to attack his mind, but he almost preferred it to the burning Eye that would haunt him, taunt him with its hypnotizing gaze and cruel words. When he didn't see the Eye in his mind, his thoughts strayed to a golden Ring, so beautiful and deadly. His shoulders slouched as he thought of the burden Frodo would have to carry, how wide and innocent his eyes had seemed, and he recalled Bilbo's grief and self-loathing.

"I believe that fear is everywhere", the elf spoke up and interrupted Gandalf's thoughts. "It's impossible to escape, but I rather face my fears with others than alone." She gave the older man a perceptive look, her green eyes gleaming with a certain light in their depths. "Are you afraid, Mithrandir? What fear is plaguing you?"

Gandalf let out a deep breath, a ragged sound, and glanced at the elf.

"Yes", he admitted quietly. "I am afraid. Only a fool would not be. But I know better than to let fear take over and to give up. Whatever little hope we have, I will hold on to it."

"So will I. No one controls you but yourself." She suddenly let out a tinkling chuckle. "That is what makes us human", she said and her eyes danced with a brief flash of mirth. "Fear."

Gandalf could not help a chuckle of his own from escaping and he shook his head, his eyes having regained some of its usual twinkle. The elf smiled and this time, the darkness didn't make her appear wicked. The moonlight gave her skin a pearly glow, her features so unlike any other race than her own. She had the face of eternity; it would never change, but her eyes showed signs of constant new feelings and knowledge. No matter what she said, joked, she could never be called human. She was an elf, the Captain of the Guards of Mirkwood, deadly and beautiful, wise with a fiery spirit.

Gandalf got a thoughtful look on his face and he studied the woman before him carefully. She was strong, he realized, her spirit had not been broken yet. He thought that perhaps, her presence would be needed or perhaps not.

"Very well", Gandalf eventually said, though his voice did not hold any guarantee of what may happen. "I will speak with Lord Elrond for you."

The elf bowed her head respectfully, her eyes shining with gratitude, though the rest of her face was a blank mask. When straightening up again, it seemed as if she had gotten some new strength, a new hope glittering in her eyes.

"Thank you, Mithrandir."

Gandalf shook his head, a couple of loose greying hair strands falling into his face, and reached out to pat the elf's hand that was resting on the railing of the small bridge they were standing on.

"No, my dear Captain", Gandalf disagreed. "Thank you."

* * *

**So, thoughts about that? I do believe that you can guess whose chapter is next...****  
**

**Thanks for reading and I'll try to have the next chapter up within a week! **


	9. Legolas and the Love of his Life

**Chapter 9 everyone! **

**I know, this chapter's later than I said it would be, but I've been busy. School has started again. That meant new school, new faces and a new schedule, which is horrible as hell... but regardless, I'm back with a new chapter; Legolas's chapter to be more exact and I hope that all of you will like it :) **

**I would like to thank all readers, followers, favourites and reviewers! The story has reached over 100 reviews and that's amazing! :D Thank you so much for your support! Your comments are always interesting to read and really encourage me to write on!  
**

**I do not own any characters or places; J.R.R Tolkien or Peter Jackson and Co do. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 9: Legolas and the Love of his Life**

Legolas secured the straps of his packing one last time, just to make sure that everything was as it should be. When seeing that everything was fine, every knot tied right, every important thing safely packed in his leather bag, the blond elf prince put away his packing and sat down on the bed. He picked up his quiver and then proceeded with taking out all his arrows one by one for inspection. He carefully ran his thumb over the tip of the arrows, making sure that they were sharp enough and that the feathers on the back of the arrows were seated as they should be. If they weren't, the aim could be far off and since he was going on a dangerous journey, he couldn't afford his aim being off.

It was midday and the sun was shining, though the sky was a bleary grey, almost white, and he still marveled the sight of the sun, of the openness of the valley. In the forest of Mirkwood, the sun had been a rare thing to see through the darkness that the trees now provided the forest with. To arrive in Imladris had been like stepping into a dream, a bright dream, though the autumn winds were cold when they swept in over the valley reminded him that all was not well even here.

He put back all his arrows in their quiver again and left it on the bed while he went to stand by the windows, admiring the view below. The valley was calm and quiet, though there was some music that played in the distance, but the noise was so soft and harmonically that it barely could be called a sound. There was no wind this day, the trees were completely still with their fiery leaves gleaming golden in the sun. Legolas smiled at the beautiful scene the valley made and he couldn't help but miss his home and wished that Mirkwood also could have been light and bright again. He sighed wistfully, but suddenly his ears perked up and he was aware that someone was approaching.

He knew she was there even before she announced herself. Legolas always seemed to know when she was near. Perhaps it was because he had learned to distinguish her steps from everyone else, or that he was simply accustomed with her presence. It could also be that his senses picked up things about her that he otherwise overlooked about everyone else.

There was a faint knock on the open door and she asked:

"Can I come in?"

"Of course", answered Legolas, though he did not turn away from the windows. "You don't even need asking."

"It's the polite thing to do."

Legolas smiled and turned his head to the left, watching as she came to stand next to him. Her long, red hair was braided together and hung over her shoulder; otherwise she was dressed in her green travelling clothes that resembled her usual Captain-uniform. She was a strange sight in Imladris where all the elf maids were wearing long, silky dresses in pale colors that made their skin seem to glow even more. To Legolas, she was a familiar sight, beautiful.

They stood next to each other and gazed out over the valley, the silence comforting between them. It was moments like these that Legolas would remember when leaving for Mordor. Just sweet, quiet moments with her by his side and with no need for any words to be spoken. She made everything seem better and he _seemed_ to be able to forget about the upcoming journey, the darkness that was everywhere and in the back of the mind of people. He knew he was out on deep water, silly for all his many years on this earth, if her mere presence sent his thoughts into a blissfully mist. Yet Legolas knew that there was hope left it one could still think of other things than the evil that threatened the world.

"I didn't interrupt you in anything, did I?"

Her voice was quiet and her eyes clear as the surface of a completely still lake. There was some kind of invisible lines of hesitation on her face; they could not be seen by the eye – not even one as sharp as his – but Legolas knew that they were there all the same. He shook his head.

"No", he replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I'm all set. I was just admiring the view."

She gave him a smile of her own, just a stretch of her lips and she placed her hands on the windowsill, her fingers a mere inch from his. He could feel the warmth from her skin. She leaned out on her arms and her braid was long enough to grace the windowsill as well. Her eyes were fixed on the splendid view of the valley, but Legolas's eyes kept going back to her, not being able to stay on the beautiful landscape any longer. There was a more mesmerizing sight standing next to him now instead.

"It is a sight to behold", she agreed, glancing his way. "It makes me think of home, of what could have been."

"A step into a dream", said Legolas. "One you could stay in for a while longer."

She turned to look at him and smiled softly.

"Yes."

Legolas mirrored it and reached out for her hand, intertwining their fingers together. Silence fell over them once more and they were as if in their own world. The sun shone with a watery light that made the prince's room shimmer in silver and the valley – the trees, the streams, the houses – all looking like a faded picture painted by someone with enormous skill.

"I've asked Mithrandir if I could come with you."

Legolas wet his lips, but did not look up from the sight of their intertwined hands. He savored the feeling of her skin against his and he gently tapped his forefinger against her knuckles. The words were like a blow to his gut and his heart felt heavy as stone. He could picture her with the fellowship; a fierce warrior, with a fire in her eyes while cutting through the rank of enemies, creating fountains and rivers of red, protecting Frodo; a wise advisor, spreading light when things would be grim; a caring spirit that would support them, that would treasure them and never give up. It was a unique set of pictures, all dark and red before his inner eye.

When Legolas didn't answer right away, the red-haired woman grew nervous.

"Aren't you going to say something?" she wondered, her voice very quiet and only briefly hesitant.

Legolas looked up and met her eyes, a strange smile appearing on his face. He withdrew his hand and sighed.

"No matter what I say, what is done is done", he said and let his guard down for a moment, allowing the woman to see how tired he truly was. "It's in the past."

His companion pursed her lips together and stared down at her hand. A wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows and the corners of her mouth were turned down, making her look unhappy.

"_Mellonamin_", Legolas begun, but changed his approach at her slightly pained look. "_Melamin_. I know you. I know your heart and I know your mind and soul. With that knowledge, it occurred to me that this was a possibility, something that was likely to happen."

She sighed and rested her head against the pillar, gazing up and out over the valley and the sky.

"Are you to say that you do not approve of my decision? Is that why you are so cold?"

Legolas shook his head, his eyes hard and his expression appalled. The words were forming in the back of his throat, almost like a cloud of thunder that was prepared to unleash its powers. The prince had a lot on his mind and his heart was torn in two over her words, her decision, that only added to the burden of his thoughts. His thoughts were going around in a circle; he couldn't really sort them out and it was something he disliked. He had been trained, groomed since birth, to have control, to have a clear mind. But as always, she could just say one word and it would sent Legolas's head spinning, though not only in a good way.

"No", he protested, though it lacked any conviction; it was all in his eyes. "No", he repeated and turned to the red-haired woman, cupping her face and locked eyes with her, his burning with a blue fire. "That is not what I mean. There is a part of me that will always want to protect you, that will like to see you in safety. Perhaps it's a foolish desire when I know that you can take care of yourself better than I could ever protect you. You have been favored by my father, which have led you to become stronger and more free-spirited than any other. You have a kind heart and it should not surprise me that you would've chosen to try and accompany us to save this world. Thus, I do not act surprised."

They were standing close together, mere inches between them. Legolas could count all the colors in her eyes, colors that usually were hidden and they shone, were blank, a mix of something fierce and deeper than the most horrendous abyss. He wondered if his eyes reflected the same power and emotions or if she was one of a kind. Her face was vulnerable even though her eyes were determined and she gazed up at him from beneath her thick eyelashes. Her skin was soft against the palms of his hands and Legolas thought she appeared both fragile and strong at the same time. She never ceased to amaze him.

With a gently movement, she raised her hands and grasped his wrists with slender fingers. She brought him closer and their foreheads touched, sending a wave of warmth through his body and he sighed. Legolas closed his eyes, letting the feeling of serenity wash over him, soothing him.

Legolas didn't know how long they were standing like that, skin against skin and breaths mixing with each other, ghosting across their faces, creating a kind of intimacy that was sweet and beautiful in a way no other race of Middle Earth could truly understand. The sun warmed them, but Legolas was certain that most of the warmth came from the elleth close to him.

"Do you want me to come with you?" she broke the silence with a whisper that smelled like berries.

Legolas opened his eyes and found that she was looking at him. He planted a kiss on her forehead and the gesture made her loose her grip on his wrists.

"It is not my decision to make", he said. "And though I might go through the whole journey with my heart in my throat, I won't deny that your company would be immensely welcome." He smiled a crooked smile. "I do not like to be apart from you."

He was rewarded with a smile and a soft laugh.

"I do not particularly like to be parted from you either", she confessed and turned away from him, looking out over the valley instead, as if she was afraid of showing him what she was feeling or thinking. "But this is far bigger than any of us. The evil has grown over the years, something we have feared and known. Only now have we decided to act and I fear that it will not be enough."

There was once again silence after she had spoken and her words were like a knife to his heart. Legolas had lived long enough to see different times come and go. He had seen battles; he had experienced pain and love. But nothing he had seen so far could compete with the growing darkness conjured by Sauron. Sixty years ago had Legolas seen a dragon burn everything in its way and he had been afraid, thinking that could there be anything else that was so destructive and evil than this dragon? Now he realized that the answer to that question was yes. The Dark Lord was a threat, a bigger threat than the dragon Smaug had ever been. Their hope was to destroy a simple golden Ring, but it was so much difficult to fight something that was all in your head, drained you of your life, than an army of Orcs where it was all about skill and physical technique.

"We will do our best", said Legolas, trying to assure her. "Nothing is lost yet. We have the Ring and the upper hand."

"But for how long?" she wondered, frowning. "We've been standing still for too long; we need to act now."

"We'll be leaving tomorrow", Legolas pointed out and watched as a shadow flickered across her face. "Then the Valar will decide our fate."

She did not look any happier and he disliked that look upon her face. He felt helpless and at a loss of what to do. He might be the older of the two, but she had always seemed to be wise beyond her years.

Legolas put a hand on her shoulder and made her turn to look at him instead of the valley with its fading autumn colors. As soon as her eyes were upon him, her features softened. She leaned into his touch and he put his arm around her shoulders. She rested her head upon his shoulder and he breathed in the scent if her silky hair.

"Mithrandir said that he would talk with Lord Elrond and that I would get the answer as soon as possible", she murmured.

Legolas nodded, though she couldn't see it. A weak breeze had picked up its speed and danced through the valley, made leaves join in the air and the breeze was fresh against their faces as it blew through Legolas's room. It carried the sound of a bell ringing, signaling that it was time for lunch. The sound was crystal clear and reminded Legolas of the way two blades would sound when crossed.

"Is it time for lunch already?"

"So it seems", he replied, but neither of them made any attempt to move.

"We should go", she said, though only squirming a bit in his embrace. "It would be rude to keep them waiting, your majesty."

"Don't", said Legolas lowly and kissed her temple. "Don't."

She twisted and turned so she was facing him, placing one hand on his cheek and her bright eyes offering an apology. He smiled, letting her know that it was fine. He didn't like it when she called him by his title; he never had been particularly fond of her doing so. It had only been yet another thing that had marked the gap between them.

The bell rang again, setting off a couple of birds so they were screeching, but even their screeching was beautiful; haunting and sad. At the fourth ringing, both of them parted, although a bit reluctantly. It had been nice to relax and to be alone, trying not to think of the task ahead.

He offered her his hand and she took it, smiling which made laughing lines appear around her eyes and the corners of her cherry red lips. His heart skipped a beat and he returned it, enjoying the feeling while it lasted. Together they left his room and made their way down the stairs. The buildings and furniture of Imladris was delicate and had an exquisite beauty, one that was very different from the palace of Mirkwood.

"Just so you know", Legolas said as they moved through one of the many elegantly designed rooms of Imladris. "That no matter what happens; my feelings for you will stay the same."

She didn't reply, bowing her head almost as if she was embarrassed and her white front teeth were visible as she bit her lower lip. She held his hand tight, squeezing it and that reassured him that he still had her affections. He squeezed her hand back and as they walked up a path, leaves were falling from the trees, looking like drops of blood and gold. They stopped, admiring the sight and the elf prince felt sadness in his heart that he could not quite describe at the sight of the leaves falling.

With their hands still clasped together, and the bell sounding in the distance, Legolas didn't move as he watched her raise a hand to touch a falling leaf. More of them fell and got stuck in her hair and Legolas could feel one or two leaves getting caught in his own perfect tresses of silver-blond. Her expression was one of wonder, of a strange happiness that didn't reach her eyes. His heart ached at the sight and he tightened the grip on her hand, only to make sure that she was real, that she wasn't a dream. When watching her now, surrounded by the pale shimmering light of Imladris and the falling leaves, it was not for the first time he realized that he loved her. But it was the first time he realized that he might never see her again.

* * *

_Mellonamin - _My friend

_Melamin - _My love

**So, that was Legolas's chapter. Worth the wait?  
**

**A lot of you have asked me to continue this story and I'm deeply touched that so many of you like it. Originally, I had planned for it to be 9 chapters, one for each member of the fellowship, but after getting all your kind comments about how you want the story to continue, I decided to write 10 chapters :) Just 10, no more, which means that the next chapter will be the last one. Anyone want to guess whose p.o.v it's going to be or how it will end? **

**Until next time, which I hope will be within a week, though I cannot make any promises, since school has to come first. **

**Thanks for reading! **


	10. Tauriel, the red-haired Elf

**So, chapter 10, the last chapter, everyone! **

**I know; this chapter is late, but I've been busy with school. But finally, it's up and the story's finished! And there were a few of you that guessed the right p.o.v for the final chapter! :) **

**Thanks to all readers, followers, favourites and reviewers! Legolas's chapter was the most reviewed so far and it made me very glad that you liked it so much! **

**I do not own any characters or places; J.R.R Tolkien or Peter Jackson and Co do. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 10: Tauriel, the red-haired Elf **

When she woke up, gliding out of her trance, she was sure that she had had a dream, though she could not recall what it had been about. She blinked a few times and stared up at the ceiling. As everything came into focus, became clearer and colorful again, she begun to question if she had really dreamed or if she had been walking on the line between unconsciousness and awareness. It was all a bit hazy, a cloud of various shades of grey still lingering in her mind.

Tauriel sat up, her body missing the soft fabric of the bed as soon as she did so. She rolled her shoulders before swinging her long legs of the side of the bed and stood up. The floor was cool against her bare feet. Even though the windows were closed, she could still feel the slight chill of autumn creeping inside her room and she shuddered, if only a bit, where she stood in her thin nightgown.

She walked over to the bowl with water that was placed upon a table. The water was clear and for a few minutes she stared at her reflection. Then she cupped her hands in the water and washed her face. There was a nervous feeling that grew in the pit of her stomach. Today was the day that the fellowship would leave the valley and start their journey. She had not been getting an answer from Lord Elrond, since he and Mithrandir had seemed pretty busy, always talking to each other with frowns and a serious gleam in their old, wise eyes.

When she was dressed – her uniform was newly laundered – she brushed her hair while looking out over the valley. It was a gloomy day and everything about the surroundings screamed of quiet and calm. Tauriel would miss Imladris, would miss that brief feeling of peace it had given her. She would miss the openness and the light. Even though she had not been told that she could go with the party of nine, Tauriel knew that she would not be able to stay in Imladris. She would help protect the Ring-bearer or return home to Mirkwood, to a king that needed her to keep his realm safe. No matter which path that lay in front of her, one thing was certain, and that was that it was a path of red. She would fight.

Her fingers lingered a moment longer in her hair, feeling an odd sort of safety at clutching her silky hair with its unusual color. She decided to keep it loose, only braiding it only so that it wouldn't fall into her face. She looked herself over in the full-length mirror that stood in a lone corner before leaving her chambers. She glanced at her bags upon the couch and her mouth thinned out. With a steady hand, she closed the door. The bags were still inside, packed just in case.

**. . . . **

It was a quiet meal, the last one they would have together before the fellowship would venture out and face the unknown. Everyone was either focused on their food or talking to each other in low voices, sitting in small groups. It was not a very merry company eating breakfast and Tauriel thought the air tasted bitter and anxious. It dampened her hunger for real food.

As she entered, she was greeted with nods, polite smiles or a wave, the latter from Merry and Pippin. The two hobbits occupied seats next to Legolas or facing him across the table. There wasn't a big crowd that had gathered, though quite a few seats were taken. Tauriel decided to sit down next to Boromir. The Gondorian Man was not sitting by himself, but he looked lonely all the same, not participating in any conversation. Though she noticed that his eyes were sharp, alert, which made her believe that he listened to all that was said. His eyes widened as she took a seat next to him, though he quickly covered his surprise with a nod. Tauriel nodded back.

Legolas caught her eye from across the room, his eyes lightening up briefly when he saw her, accompanied by one eyebrow raised in a silence question. Tauriel replied by raising one eyebrow of her own, her eyes moving over Legolas's table were every seat was taken. She could read in his eyes that he understood what she meant, but she didn't know if she should feel afraid of the sudden flame of affection that rushed through her when he smiled at her, or embrace it. It was always difficult to say.

Tauriel turned away and tried to catch Lord Elrond's gaze, but their host was in a deep conversation with Gandalf and paid little else any attention. Gandalf was looking serious, nodding, but his eyes were sharp and determined. If she was to concentrate, she would probably have heard what they were talking about, but her respect for the two elder men was stronger than her curiosity and impatience. And it would not surprise her if Gandalf had put some sort of spell around them so that eavesdroppers would be unable to hear them; the wizard was known for having tricks up his sleeves.

While none of the two men noticed her staring, Glorfindel did and nodded at her with an emotionless mask upon his face. He was seated to Lord Elrond's right, only speaking now and then. There was something sad about the old, fair-haired warrior and Tauriel had to look away from the trio, because it was as if she could feel their anxiety, worry and tiredness. It made her feel heavy inside.

She reached out across the small table to grab a loaf of bread, accompanied by some fresh and fine vegetables and fruits. The apples tasted sweet and the salad mixture gave her new strength. The bread was still warm, newly baked, and the water she drank was cold and soothed her throat. She ate mechanically, her nerves like tuneful, overstrung strings of a harp or a fiddle. She chewed slowly as if it would buy all of them some time.

"I've heard that the prince is rather good with the bow", said Boromir suddenly in an attempt to start a conversation and raised his goblet to drink. "Is he as good as you?"

Tauriel hid her smile behind her goblet, though her eyes twinkled merrily and she was rather flattered by the Man's compliment.

"Oh, I should think so", she replied, sipping her water. "After all, he was the one who taught me."

Boromir blinked and his eyes flickered between the two elves of Mirkwood. Tauriel followed his gaze. Legolas was listening to a tale or another that Pippin was telling, gesturing wildly, while Merry was nodding furiously in agreement of whatever the youngest hobbit was saying. Legolas had adopted an expression one might get when listening to someone young, someone childlike and enthusiastic. A small smile was visible on the elf prince's face as he looked down at the two hobbits, trying to keep up with their chattering. Everything did seem a little bit brighter with that smile and the hobbits voices becoming louder, lightening the other so grave mood. Tauriel found herself to be smiling a bit.

Boromir cleared his throat discretely and she snapped out of her staring, offering the Man a sheepish look. He opened his mouth and then closed it, seeming to be struggling to find something to say. In the end, he settled for jerking his head in what could have been a nod and focused on his food, frowning. Tauriel couldn't blame him; there was a lot to think of this day.

She looked around the room as the early white light of the autumn sun shone upon the occupants of the room, making it look as if all of them wore crowns of gold upon their heads. Two tables were occupied by Lord Elrond, Gandalf and Lord Glorfindel – as Tauriel had noticed before – all three of them talking quietly amongst each other. Then Legolas shared a table with Merry and Pippin, a slight twist of amusement to his lips while the hobbits, with their innocent look about them, stuffed their faces with food. At another table sat Aragorn and conversed with Lord Elrond's two sons. The Man looked tired, now and then glancing in the direction of Lady Arwen, only to quickly avert his eyes when he caught himself looking. In the other end of the room sat Lady Arwen with a couple of maids and the Lady's deep blue eyes flickered ever so often towards the ranger. Tauriel recognized that look. She and Legolas had exchanged many of those before working out the differences between them and the world.

The dwarf Gimli was sitting with his father and Bilbo Baggins was with them, looking small and fragile. Frodo and Sam were also sitting with them, listening as the dwarves spoke. They were loud, dwarves, that couldn't be denied. Frodo's usually rosy cheeks were pale and he seemed to be a bit lost in thought. Sam was trying to pay attention to the dwarves and Bilbo, while listening to something Pippin was calling to him from the table next to theirs. It gave the room a feeling of a familiarity that was not often seen amongst Tauriel's kin.

All too soon did their last meal end. Lord Elrond rose from his seat and declared that breakfast was over and it was true; most of them had cleared their plates with the exception of one or two hobbits. The members of the travelling company were told to prepare. They would be leaving soon.

Legolas tried to catch Tauriel's eye as she stood up, making her way towards the Lord of Imladris. But before she could've gotten the older elf's attention, he had walked out the room, followed by Glorfindel and a couple of other elves. Tauriel felt her hope deflate.

**. . . .**

Tauriel wandered off on her own as the nine companions of the fellowship went their separate ways to prepare and gather the last things before leaving. The first shrieks of the morning birds echoed like a rap on glass around in the valley and the sky was still grey and she thought that it wouldn't change during the day. The sky matched her mood and the feelings that washed over her.

She didn't know where to go. She felt unwanted at every turn she took, out of place. There was no place for her amongst the fellowship, not yet, no matter what she might've hoped for. And Imladris was getting too quiet, too peaceful for her liking. It was strange and unbelievable of her to think so, but her body was itching for a fight, wanting to do something else than waiting. Tauriel hated being restless and the sense of safety that Imladris gave her. She knew that once she left, everything would come rushing down; the darkness, the evil and the danger.

The red-haired elleth let out a sigh as if letting her lungs breathe out her frustration, everything would be better.

As she walked, she became more awake. Her steps got a certain spring to them and though her fingers were itching for grabbing a weapon, she felt her body relax somewhat. She didn't meet anyone during her walk and that only made her feel even more alone and out of place.

For how long she was wandering the valley, she did not know, but it felt like an eternity before one of Lord Elrond's closest servants approached her and informed her that the fellowship was about to leave and that the prince of Mirkwood had asked for her to be present. That made Tauriel smile a bit and she thanked the elf and started to locate her way back. She had become accustomed with the narrow paths of the valley, for after years living in Mirkwood, such a bright and open place as Imladris was easy to find out the best ways to walk.

Tauriel watched with a knot in her chest and a lump in her throat as the fellowship gathered in the yard, every one of them ready to leave. They were an odd ensemble; odd by number and by race. A group of elves had arrived to watch them go and they stood tall amongst the fallen autumn leaves, their eyes singing a sad song with no real language. The whole valley had seemed to darken during the preparations and the mood was grave. Tauriel clenched her hands at her sides.

The nine members of the fellowship were dressed for travelling; their clothes in murky colors, warm and practical. Even the pony carrying most of the packing was equipped for going many miles. The elves – in their fine, shimmering clothes – looked like they belonged in another world, as if the yard beginning at the foot of the stairs was another world in another time. A time that would never reach them or bother them.

Tauriel frowned, thinking that she would have to step forwards now to say goodbye. Her legs didn't move and she felt as if she was sinking to the ground, being turned into stone. Saying goodbye and being left behind, not knowing, only wondering and hoping…. It was not something for her and she did not want to return to her King without any news that would still his troubled mind.

"Tauriel."

So lost in her thoughts, her misery and hopelessness, she hadn't noticed the elf lord sneaking up on her. She turned around so quickly that her neck risked being locked. Lord Elrond was standing in front of her, both his brows raised in silent wonder. Tauriel couldn't believe that she had missed that he was not standing with the other elves in the yard, giving the fellowship his blessings.

"My Lord", she said, bowing her head and hoping that he wouldn't notice the excitement and nervousness that gleamed in her eyes.

Lord Elrond's face was set in the calmest expression she had ever seen anyone wearing, though there were some stern lines in his face that not even his ageless façade could hide. There was a hard set to his jaw, but his eyes were still wise beyond years. He had his hands clasped in front of him, resting on his belly and his brows arched, almost as if he had expected her to be somewhere else.

"Well", he said as he swept by her to join his people. "Aren't you coming?"

Tauriel blinked, frozen in place, thinking that she must've heard wrong. She would not have said that Lord Elrond looked amused, but there was something a bit lighter i_n_ his eye now.

"They are waiting for you", the old elf continued, gesturing towards the fellowship.

Legolas was standing watching the two elves. Tauriel locked eyes with him and she felt whole, even though there was sadness in his eyes as well as love and acceptance. She suspected that her eyes expressed the same emotions, but despite everything, despite the dark and unknown path in front of her, she couldn't help it;

She smiled.

* * *

**So, that was the end of it. What did you think of Tauriel's chapter or the story in general? If you've had a favourite chapter, I would very much like to hear whose that was. Personally, I'm quite fond of Boromir's, but what about you guys? :) **

**I would like to thank:**

_**The readers, both new ones and those of you that followed from 'Waiting an eternity and forever late'. I'm hoping that it has been an enjoyable reading experience.  
**_

_**Those who have added the story as a favourite. I'm glad that you've liked the story enough to add it as a favourite.  
**_

_**Those who have followed this story. I really hope that it has been a story worth following! **_

_**The reviewers, whose support has been amazing. It's been so fun to read your comments, your opinions/thoughts and words of encouragement. Most of you have been guest-reviewers and I'm sorry that I haven't always been able to reply to you all.  
**_

**All of your support has been wonderful!  
**

_Diola lle, i mellyn!  
_

**/Aqua4444**


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